Our view of man will remain superficial so long as we fail to go back to that origin [of silence], so long as we fail to find, beneath the chatter of words, the primordial silence, and as long as we do not describe the action which breaks this silence. The spoken word is a gesture, and its meaning, a world.

remember:   the body’s pain and the pain on the streets
are not the same      but you can learn
from the edges that blur      O you who love clear edges
more than anything        watch the edges that blur

Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes.
Because for those who love with heart and soul,
There is no such thing as separation.

Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys,
‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs.

If what Proust says is true, that happiness is the absence of fever, then I will never know happiness. For I am possessed by a fever for knowledge, experience and creation. I think I have an immediate awareness in living which is far more terrible and more painful. Instantaneous awareness. There is no time lapse, no distance between me and the present.

The first progressive step for a mind overwhelmed by the strangeness of things is to realize that this feeling of strangeness is shared with all men and that human reality, in its entirety, suffers from the distance which separates it from the rest of the universe.

We are what suns and winds and waters make us.

How fragile we are, between the few good moments.