Birth in the physical is death in the spiritual. Death in the physical is birth in the spiritual.

For an instant$$$ I think I saw. I saw the loneliness of man as a gigantic wave which had been frozen in front of me$$$ held back by the invisible wall of a metaphor.

Actions speak louder than words$$$ and a smile says$$$ I like you. You make me happy. I am glad to see you.

Nothing in life is worth turning your back on$$$ if you love it.

What am I? Am I the bulb that carries the light$$$ or am I the light of which the bulb is a vehicle?

Follow your inner heart and the world moves in and helps.

Where you stumble and fall$$$ there you will find gold.

A classic is a book that has never finished what it wants to say.

The ultimate meaning to which all stories refer has two faces: the continuity of life$$$ the inevitability of death.

And yet$$$ my girl$$$ we weep in vain$$$<br/>In vain our fate in sighs deplore;<br/>Remembrance only can remain$$$<br/>But that$$$ will make us weep the more.