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A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn’t play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.

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There is no space wider than that of grief.
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So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
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And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.
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The books that help you most are those which make you think that most.
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Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?
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In the eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.”
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Laughter is the language of the soul.
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