Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles] It's me And who is the poet writing this poem? That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles

...And we left the lightfor the night of the street

Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles]It's meAnd who is the poet writing this poem?That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles

The City is free of sinThe snow has given it absolution A man who slips A horse that fallsOh no, the city is in a nightgown

Do you remember the long orphanage of the train stationsWe crossed cities that turn-tabled all dayAnd vomited at night the sunshine of the day ("The Voyager")

it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man.

How can I find the words? Poets have taken them all and left me with nothing to say or do""Except to teach me for the first time what they meant.

Hey, people ... Do not complain about walking on a Monday if you stayed in folded arms on a Sunday.

The more candles on my cake means I get a little more exercise in blowing them out.

I'd leave London only for Man United, the club of my dreams. For Mr Ferguson I'd also stay silent on the bench.

Don't put off for tomorrow what you should do today.

Work, alternated with needful rest, is the salvation of man or woman.

You have to believe in yourself, that you're gonna succeed.

The worthy GM never purposely kills players' PCs, He presents opportunities for the rash and unthinking players to do that all on their own.

Who is a good man? He who keeps the decrees of the fathers, and both human and divine laws. [Lat., Vir bonus est quis? Qui consulta patrum, qui leges juraque servat.]