Even When We Look At

The Outcome Of My Days Is Always The Same; An Infinite Desire For What One Never Gets; A Void One Cannot Fill; An Utter Yearning To Produce In All Ways, To Battle As Much As Possible Against Time That Drags Us Along, And The Distractions That Throw A Veil Over Our Soul.

If One Considered Life As A Simple Loan, One Would Perhaps Be Less Exacting. We Possess Actually Nothing; Everything Goes Through Us.

A Wife Of Your Own Stature Is The Greatest Of All Blessings.

Nature Creates Unity Even In The Parts Of A Whole.

How Can This World, Which Is So Beautiful, Include So Much Horror?