Let our scars fall in love.

The budstands for all things,even for those things that don’t flower,for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing; though sometimes it is necessaryto reteach a thing its loveliness,to put a hand on its browof the flowerand retell it in words and in touchit is lovelyuntil it flowers again from within, of self-blessing

When a group of people get up from a table, the table doesn’tknow which way any of them will go.

That's the way it is with poetry: When it is incomprehensible it seems profound, and when you understand it, it is only ridiculous