They have not been concerned with my disease ever since they found out that it is not catching.
Why do we keep lions within iron cages? For dear someone might steal them.
The fountain of death makes the still water of life play.
If we had no illusions, what would we do with so much of reality?
The poet wind is out over the sea and the forest to seek his own voice.
I want to grow yet I know the thunderbolt strikes the tallest trees.
I can see mountains of rust. The Iron Age has not yet come to an end.
This rainy evening the wind is restless. I look at the swaying branches and ponder over the greatness of all things.
To compliment is like walking a tightrope between truth and overstatement.
When the wind blows from the east, the grass leans to the west.