Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.

One should read Borges more.

In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we're no more than castrated cats

I steal into their dreams," he said. "I steal into their most shameful thoughts, I'm in every shiver, every spasm of their souls, I steal into their hearts, I scrutinize their most fundamental beliefs, I scan their irrational impulses, their unspeakable emotions, I sleep in their lungs during the summer and their muscles during the winter, and all of this I do without the least effort, without intending to, without asking or seeking it out, without constraints, driven only by love and devotion.

You run risks. That's the plain truth. You run risks and, even in the most unlikely places, you are subject to destiny's whims.

Poetry is the one thing that isn't contaminated, the one thing that isn't part of the game.

That's a pretty story,' said Afanasievna as she let go of Ansky's genitals. 'A pity I'm too old and have seen to much to believe it.' It has nothing to do with belief,' said Ansky, 'it has to do with understanding, and then changing.