My soul speaks much more languages than my fingers. So, let them make mistakes if they want to. They don't have any self-conscience.
Contributed by: mara
Try to remember me when the cold frosty winter will set veils of snowflakes over my old hair. I will remember you too.
I know you're there by the way the sun dabs the Earth in that part of the Universe. I know you're there breathing the cold air of March and seeking for a sign of summer. I know you're there and that's enough for today.
I would play dice with God, and maybe I would win sometimes, but I’m already involved with God in this very complicated game of life.
In this game of Life, God has maybe the advantage that he might know me very well. Instead, I don’t know anyway anything about him.
When a half goes, the other one must always remain a whole. This is one of the rules of the game.
My soul is sleeping like a child, please feel very quietly!...
Something in your heart tells me spring is still very far, but your fingers have already millions of flourishing buds.
The learned man will not rest until he finds the one to learn more from.
We often say that the heart calls out... the heart is mostly quiet, other parts are screaming for completion.
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