Every day is a masterpiece, even if it crushes you.
Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land.
Actually, years mean nothing. It's what's inside them.
Sometimes, language is the sound of longing
Death is the most sophisticated form of beauty, and the most difficult to accept.
Where are people going? I wonder what they hope will happen and what they are afraid of? For me it's the same thing and has to do with being loved.