It seems as though, at the approach of a certain dark hour, the light of heaven infills those who are leaving the light of earth.
Youth is the future smiling at a stranger, which is itself.
Every bird which flies has the thread of the infinite in its claw.
What happened between those two beings? Nothing. They were adoring one another.
We are given up to those gods, those monsters, those giants, — our thoughts.
The soul has greater need of the ideal than of the real