On Ne Sait Jamais! One Never Knows!

I Saw The Sunset Forty-four Times!

On A Day Of Burial There Is No Perspective--for Space Itself Is Annihilated. Your Dead Friend Is Still A Fragmentary Being. The Day You Bury Him Is A Day Of Chores And Crowds, Of Hands False Or True To Be Shaken, Of The Immediate Cares Of Mourning. The Dead Friend Will Not Really Die Until Tomorrow, When Silence Is Round You Again. Then He Will Show Himself Complete, As He Was--to Tear Himself Away, As He Was, From The Substantial You. Only Then Will You Cry Out Because Of Him Who Is Leaving And Whom You Cannot Detain.

How Desperately Difficult It Is To Be Honest With Oneself. It Is Much Easier To Be Honest With Other People.what Is True Is Invisible To The Eye. It Is Only With The Heart That One Can See Clearly.

It's Quite Simple: One Sees Clearly Only With The Heart. Anything Essential Is Invisible To The Eyes. [fr., Il Est Tres Simple: On Ne Voit Bien Qu'avec Le Coeur. L'essentiel Est Invisible Pour Les Yeux.]

Whoever Loves Above All The Approach Of Love Will Never Know The Joy Of Attaining It.