Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.
What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
Of all the fires, love is the only inexhaustible one.
And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
He who has nothing-it has been said many times-has nothing to lose but his chains.
Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
I love you between shadow and soul. I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. Because of you, the dense fragrance that rises from the earth lives in my body, rioting with hunger for the eternity of our victorious kisses.
To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
When I sleep every night, what am I called or not called? And when I wake, who am I if I was not I while I slept?
Of everything I have seen, it's you I want to go on seeing: of everything I've touched, it's your flesh I want to go on touching. I love your orange laughter. I am moved by the sight of you sleeping. What am I to do, love, loved one? I don't know how others love or how people loved in the past. I live, watching you, loving you. Being in love is my nature.
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
In one kiss, you'll know all I haven't said.
If each day falls inside each night, there exists a well where clarity is imprisoned. We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness and fish for fallen light with patience.
Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.
If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
He who does not travel, who does not read, who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself, she who does not find grace in herself, dies slowly.
Perhaps the earth can teach usAs when everything seems deadAnd later proves to be alive
You are like night, calmed, constellated. Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.
And it follows that I am, because you are: it follows from 'you are', that I am, and we: and, because of love, you will, I will, we will, come to be.
Conspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
The books that help you most are those which make you think that most. The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty.
Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.
We are dust and to dust return. In the end we're neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.
In the distance someone is singing.
And I, infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Laughter is the language of the soul.
All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are.
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness
Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way
And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.