Both Light And Shadow Are The Dance

I Lost Everything I Have, Found Myself.

The Gifts Of Lovers To One Another Are, In Respect To Love, Nothing But Forms; Yet, They Testify To Invisible Love.

If These Poems Repeat Themselves, Then So Does Spring.

When Someone Is Counting Out Gold For You, Don't Look At Your Hands, Or The Gold. Look At The Giver.

The Past, The Future, O Dear, Is From You; You Should Regard Both These As One.