I Thought That The Light-house

All That's Bright Must Fade, The Brightest Still The Fleetest; All That's Sweet Was Made But To Be Lost When Sweetest.

Usually, The Main Problem With Life Conundrums Is That We Don't Bring To Them Enough Imagination

Love Doesn't Demand Perfection, But It Does Ask You To Give Yourself With Less Reserve Than You'd Prefer.

This Wretched Brain Gave Way, And I Became A Wreck At Random Driven, Without One Glimpse Of Reason Or Heaven.

When We Relate To Our Bodies As Having Soul, We Attend To Their Beauty, Their Poetry And Their Expressiveness. Our Very Habit Of Treating The Body As A Machine, Whose Muscles Are Like Pulleys And Its Organs Engines, Forces Its Poetry Underground, So That We Experience The Body As An Instrument And See Its Poetics Only In Illness.