There Is No Road, The

Between Living And Dreaming There Is A Third Thing. Guess It.

Wherever Learning Breeds Specialists, The Sum Of Human Culture Is Enhanced Thereby. That Is The Illusion And Consolation Of Specialists.

The Wind, One Brilliant Day, Called To My Soul With An Odor Of Jasmine. "in Return For The Odor Of My Jasmine, I'd Like All The Odor Of Your Roses." "i Have No Roses; All The Flowers In My Garden Are Dead." "well Then, I'll Take The Withered Petals And The Yellow Leaves And The Waters Of The Fountain." The Wind Left. And I Wept. And I Said To Myself: "what Have You Done With The Garden That Was Entrusted To You?

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

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