Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.

The Nobel is a ticket to one's own funeral. No one has ever done anything after he got it.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

If you desire to drain to the dregs the fullest cup of scorn and hatred that a fellow human being can pour out for you, let a young mother hear you call dear baby 'it.'

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

The past and future / Are conquered, and reconciled.

My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand.