Like The Seeds Dreaming Beneath The Snow

Life Has Two Halves: One Patient And One Afire. Love Is The Fiery Half. Make Me, O Lord, Food For The Flames.

To Be Able To Look Back Upon Ones Life In Satisfaction, Is To Live Twice.

If Your Heart Is A Volcano, How Shall You Expect Flowers To Bloom?

Extreme Torture Is Mute, And So We Sat Silent, Petrified, Like Columns Of Marble Buried Under The Sand Of An Earthquake. Neither Wished To Listen To The Other Because Our Heart-threads Had Become Weak And Even Breathing Would Have Broken Them.

I Want Every Image To Be The Beginning Of An Unseen Image.