Only The Solitary Seek The Truth, And

But The Division In Him Was A Sorrow And A Torment, And He Became Accustomed To It Only As One Gets Used To An Unhealed And Frequently Reopened Wound.

She Was Here On Earth To Make Sense Of Its Wild Enchantments.

It Snowed And Snowed, The Whole World Over, Snow Swept The World From End To End. A Candle Burned On The Table; A Candle Burned.

Departure Beyond The Borders Of My Country Is For Me Equivalent To Death.

No Bad Man Can Be A Good Poet.