Poetry is the impish

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind.

Jan, 21 2012 61 chars (1 sms) 1394 views Quotes

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Blessed are they who have nothing to say and who cannot be persuaded to say it.

Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons. WE can only record its moods and chronicle their return.

Whenconflict becomes a win-lose contest in our minds, we immediately try to win.

A man'sconversation is the mirror of his thoughts.

Forbidden fruit can get us into a real jam.

Byblending the breath of the sun and the shade, true harmony comes into theworld.

The spokenword belongs half to him who speaks, and half to him who listens.

There is nobody so irritating as somebody with less intelligence and more sense than we have.

The flowers of life are but illusions. How many fade away and leave no trace; how few yield any fruit and the fruit itself how rarely does it ripen!

This creative man, who in his own selfish affairs is a coward to the backbone, will fight for an idea like a hero.

Happiness is the wondrous commodity, the more your give; the more you have.

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