Smiling the boy fell dead.
God is seen God In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.
Day! Faster and more fast. O'er night's brim, day boils at last.
What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.