To be loved means to be consumed. To love is to give light with inexhaustible oil. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.

Every happiness is the child of a separation it did not think it could survive.

Be forever dead in Eurydice-more gladly arise into the seamless life proclaimed in your song. Here, in the realm of decline, among momentary days, be the crystal cup that shattered even as it rang.

Why should you want to give up a child's wise not-understanding in exchange for defensiveness and scorn, since not-understanding is, after all, a way of being alone, whereas defensiveness and scorn are a participation in precisely what, by these means, you want to separate yourself from.

Look, we don't love like flowers with only one season behind us; when we love, a sap older than memory rises in our arms.

There is only one journey. Going inside yourself.

Embrace your solitude and love it. Endure the pain it causes, and try to sing out with it. For those near to you are distant.