soft spoken

I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity.

Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.

Världen badar i blod för att Gud måtte leva.

at your best, you are love

you will make something

As soon as the full moon comes to give its blessing.

"Ah!" he thought to himself, "she is Poetry."

Let the Universe flow into your consciousness, there is no limit to its capacity, nothing that it shall not re-create

It was your birthright to be, like a Rafael or a Pitt, a great poet at an age when other men are children; it was your fate, the fate of Chateaubriand and of every man of genius, to struggle against jealousy skulking behind the columns of a newspaper, 

I hear people speaking ill

and love is a poem that we live.

"Whence came these two radiant, celestial brothers, united for an instant as they crossed the stratosphere of our starry window? One from the East, and one from the West."

  You're all demureness, butter wouldn't melt

had the youthful Moses listened to and accepted that view of life, had he bowed his head and bowed his will and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never have brought the chosen people out of their house of bondage