Perplexity Is The Beginning Of Knowledge.

Love Is The Only Flower That Grows And Blossoms Without The Aid Of The Seasons

Hell Is Not In Torture; Hell Is In An Empty Heart.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked.

Poetry, My Dear Friends, Is A Sacred Incarnation Of A Smile. Poetry Is A Sigh That Dries The Tears. Poetry Is A Spirit Who Dwells In The Soul, Whose Nourishment Is The Heart, Whose Wine Is Affection. Poetry That Comes Not In This Form Is A False Messiah.

And Forget Not That The Earth Delights To Feel Your Bare Feet And The Winds Long To Play With Your Hair.