Harshness vanished. A sudden softness has replaced the meadows' wintry grey. Little rivulets of water changed their singing accents. Tendernesses, hesitantly, reach toward the earth from space, and country lanes are showing these unexpected subtle risings that find expression in the empty trees.

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.

I believe that nothing that is real can pass away.

May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.

Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were behind you, like the winter that has just gone by. For among these winters there is one so endlessly winter that only by wintering through it will your heart survive.

Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings.

a good marriage is that in which each appoints the other guardian of his solitude