That which oppresses me, is it my soul trying to come out in the open, or the soul of the world knocking at my heart for entrance?

And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it is thy power gives me strength to act.

You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.

By touching you may kill, by keeping away you may possess.

The speech of my heart will be carried on in murmurings of a song.

Asks the Possible of the Impossible, "Where is your dwelling-place?" "In the dreams of the Impotent," comes the answer.

The bird thinks it a favor to give the fish a lift in the air