Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

I have sharp and penetrating vision because I see through the mesh of a sieve.

Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky, / We fell them down and turn them into paper, / That we may record our emptiness.

You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls live in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit even in your dreams.