We Never Remember Days, Only Moments.

Verrà La Morte E Avrà I Tuoi Occhi. (death Will Come And It Will Have Your Eyes.)

The Face Of The Night Will Be An Old Wound That Reopens Each Evening, Impassive And Living. The Distant Silence Will Ache Like A Soul, Mute, In The Dark. We'll Speak To The Night As It's Whispering Softly.

A Work Settles Nothing, Just As The Labor Of A Whole Generation Settles Nothing. Sons, And The Morrow, Always Start Afresh.

If You Wish To Travel Far And Fast, Travel Light. Take Off All Your Envies, Jealousies, Unforgiveness, Selfishness And Fears.

When Writing Poetry, It Is Not That Produces A Bright Idea, But The Bright Idea That Kindles The Fire Of.