I Certainly See Myself More As A

If We Give What We Treasure Most To A Being We Love With All Our Hearts, If We Can Do That Without Expecting Anything In Return, Then The World Becomes A Beautiful Place.

Clocks And Calendars Do Not Exist To Remind Us Of The Time We've Forgotten But To Regulate Our Relations With Others And Indeed All Of Society, And This Is How We Use Them.

I Think A Lot About The Poems I Wasn't Able To Write...i Masturbrated...solitude Is Essentially A Matter Of Pride; You Bury Yourself In Your Own Scent. The Issue Is The Same For All Real Poets. If You've Been Happy For Too Long, You Become Banal. By The Same Token, If You've Been Unhappy For A Long Time, You Lose Your Poetic Power...happiness And Poverty Can Only Coexist For The Briefest Time. Afterword Either Happiness Coarsens The Poet Or The Poem Is So True It Destroys His Happiness.

Immersing Oneself In The Problems Of A Book Is A Good Way To Keep From Thinking Of Love.

The Snow Reminded Me Of The Beauty And Mystery Of Creation, Of The Essential Joy That Is Life.