“Men will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.”

A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.

What is poetry which does not save nations or people?

You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.

The child who dwells inside us trusts that there are wise men somewhere who know the truth.

And now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderlands of death. I already see mountain ridges in the heavenly forest Where, beyond every essence, a new essence awaits.

In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.

What has no shadow has no strength to live.

It was only toward the middle of the twentieth century that the inhabitants of many European countries came, in general unpleasantly, to the realization that their fate could be influenced directly by intricate and abstruse books of philosophy.

I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.

I’ve always regretted that I’m made of contradictions. But, if contradiction is impossible to overcome, we have to accept both its ends.

Our memory is childish and it saves only what we need.

A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death – the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, murders we are not going to be judged.

Forget the suffering You caused others. Forget the suffering Others caused you. The waters run and run, Springs sparkle and are done, You walk the earth you are forgetting.

From life, from the apple cut by the flaming knife, what grain will be saved? My son, believe me, nothing remains, Only adult toil, the furrow of fate in the palm. Only toil, Nothing more.

When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset.

Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man?

Leave the dreamers alone! You will never catch them.

Don’t dwell on the things you don’t have. Every opportunity I felt like was passing me up had to catch back up with me.

Find me where the stars fall and catch me everytime.

If it’s yours, you’ll catch it anyhow, if it’s not, you’ll lose it even if you catch it now.

Experiencing the present purely is being empty and hollow; you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.

It wasn’t you but your soul that caught my attention.

Opportunities don’t wait for you, you have to catch it on time.

Once I catch you in one lie, it makes me question everything you said.