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

Those doves below, the ones utterly cared for, never endangered ones, cannot know tenderness.

I don't want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.

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.

Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.

Beauty is only the start of bearable terror.

Perhaps then, some day far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.