One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.
Set out from any point. They are all alike. They all lead to a point of departure.
I know what I have given you... I do not know what you have received.
Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow.
We become aware of the void as we fill it.
Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly.
In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing.
He who does not fill his world with phantoms remains alone.
Night is a world lit by itself