All Uncertainty Is Fruitfull ...

There Is No One So Bound To His Own Face That He Does Not Cherish The Hope Of Presenting Another To The World.

The Afternoon Is Bright, With Spring In The Air, A Mild March Afternoon, With The Breath Of April Stirring, I Am Alone In The Quiet Patio Looking For Some Old Untried Illusion - Some Shadow On The Whiteness Of The Wall Some Memory Asleep On The Stone Rim Of The Fountain, Perhaps In The Air The Light Swish Of Some Trailing Gown.

Don't Try To Rush Things: For The Cup To Run Over, It Must First Be Filled.

Caminante, No Hay Camino, Se Hace Camino Al Andar. (walk, There Is No Path, The Path Is Made By Walking.)

What The Poet Is Searching For Is Not The Fundamental I But The Deep You.