Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.
Those loves which are for the sake of a colour are not love. In the end they are a disgrace.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope, free of mountainous wanting.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
Lovely days donโt come to you, you should walk to them.
A lover's life lies in death. You shall not find a heart without losing the heart.