Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, seperate, in the evening.

Earth, my dearest, oh believe me, you no longer need your springtimes to win me over...Unspeakably, I have belonged to you, from the flush.

and I circle ten thousand years long; And I still don't know if I'm a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song

Learn to love the questions themselves.

Joy is a marvelous increasing of what exists, a pure addition out of nothingness.

The point is to live everything.

Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and great each other.