If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly, and my low spirits would brighten up.

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

Song falls silent, music is dumb, But the air burns with their fragrance, And white winter, on its knees, Observes everything with reverent attention.

I marvel at everything as if it were new.

And in the depths of music, I didn’t find the answer, And again there was silence, and again the ghost of summer.

I know: yes, no, even I must tear offThe delicate daisy petals.Everyone on earth is destined to feelThe torments of love.

I’m not weeping, I’m not complaining, Happiness is not for me.

But I am not allowed to forgetThe taste of the tears of yesterday.

I defendNot my voice, but my silence

And you know, I agree to everything:I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy, Darkness will be light and sin lovely.

Tomorrow the mirrors will mock me

Out of the military, out of the war, out of the only life they knew. Team Fear took the fall.

I am for poetry that is admired by peasant and aristocrat alike.

I'm always presenting myself with problems to solve as a writer.

Whenever she thought she could not feel more alone, the universe peeled back another layer of darkness.

I am grateful that my horizons were not narrowed at the outset.

A religious hope does not only bear up the mind under her sufferings but makes her rejoice in them.

Additional problems are the offspring of poor solutions.

As I get older, I've learned to listen to people rather than accuse them of things.

People said I should accept the world. Bullshit! I don't accept the world.

poverty is obsolete and hunger is abolished