beauty of any kind is in the eye of the beloved and the back of the squeezed.

One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral, four for birth.”

Man cannot live on bread alone; sometimes, he needs a malt.

Happiness isn't happiness.

Alms for the poor, alms for the poet.

It's the silence which gets us in the end.

Breadth of my love expands when I am with them.

“When I was small I was in love with everything. 
Now there’s only you.”

“I bear loyalty in one hand and longing in the other; I know who I am not, and from that knowing, I begin to become.”

We all have secret identities— the question is, how interesting can we be with them?