Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other Who think the same thoughts without need of speech

To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not / You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.

As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug's game. No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: He may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing.

Again I must remind you that a dog's a dog-a cat's a cat.

You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer.

We had the experience but missed the meaning. And approach to the meaning restores the experience in a different form.

To each individual the world will take on a different connotation of meaning-the important lies in the desire to search for an answer.