What Is So Real As The Cry

I Have The One Person I Could Ever Love In This World. Now I Must Work To Be A Person Worthy Of That.

Compared With Me, A Tree Is Immortal.

The Future Is What Matters — Because One Never Reaches It, But Always Stays In The Present — Like The White Queen Who Had To Run Like The Wind To Remain In The Same Spot.

I Felt Like A Racehorse In A World Without Racetracks.

Maybe Forgetfulness, Like A Kind Snow, Should Numb And Cover Them. But They Were A Part Of Me. They Were My Landscape.