A Poet's Death is His Life.
I long for eternity because there I shall meet my unwritten poems and my unpainted pictures.
We fear death yet we long for slumber and beautiful dreams.
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.
I love you when you bow in your mosque, kneel in your temple, pray in your church. For you and I are sons of one religion, and it is the spirit.