No great art has ever been made without the artist having known danger.
Perhaps creating something is nothing but an act of profound remembrance.
I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I am the rest between two notes which are somehow always in discord.
you are not too old and it is not too late to dive into your increasing depths where life calmly gives out it's own secret
Isn't it time that these most ancient sorrows of ours grew fruitful? Time that we tenderly loosed ourselves from the loved one, and, unsteadily, survived: the way the arrow, suddenly all vector, survives the string to be more than itself. For abiding is nowhere.