But You Who Walk Facing The Sun,

Marriage Is Like A Temple Resting On Two Pillars. If They Come Too Close To Each Other The Temple Will Collapse.

If You Would Behold The Spirit Of Death, Open Your Heart Wide Unto The Body Of Life. For Life And Death Are One, Even As The River And Sea Are One.

Perhaps Time’s Definition Of Coal Is The Diamond.

We Live Only To Discover Beauty. All Else Is A Form Of Waiting

Poetry, My Dear Friends, Is A Sacred Incarnation Of A Smile. Poetry Is A Sigh That Dries The Tears. Poetry Is A Spirit Who Dwells In The Soul, Whose Nourishment Is The Heart, Whose Wine Is Affection. Poetry That Comes Not In This Form Is A False Messiah.