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Fly without wings; dream with open eyes.

Senses empower limitations, senses expand vision within borders, senses promote understanding through pleasure.
Entering a cell, penetrating deep as a flying saucer to find a new galaxy would be an honorable task for a new scientist interested more in the inner state of the soul than in outer space.
To accomplish the perfect perfection, a little imperfection helps.
Perfection seems sterile; it is final, no mystery in it; it's a product of an assembly line.
Trying too hard to be too good, even when trying to be bad, is too good for the bad, too bad for the good.
I fly through memory to find a newborn love.
There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.
My feelings are too loud for words and too shy for the world.
Without pleasure there is no sight or measure.
Total knowledge is annihilation of the desire to see, to touch, to feel the world sensed only through senses and immune to the knowledge without feeling.
Oblivion cures the old wounds.
When all is lost, there is still a memory.
We love the imperfect shapes in nature and in the works of art, look for an intentional error as a sign of the golden key and sincerity found in true mastery.
Everything that looks too perfect is too perfect to be perfect.
There is something perfect to be found in the imperfect: the law keeps balance through the juxtaposition of beauty, which gains perfection through nurtured imperfection.
To dream on occasion is not dreaming; to love on occasion is not love.
There is no born lover, there is no born Don Juan, for we are all lovers.
Great poets are great copy editors.
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Is that all?
He tries to find the exit from himself but there is no door.
They will smile, as they always do when they plan a major attack late in the night.
There is no competition of sounds between a nightingale and a violin.
Sound unbound by nature becomes bounded by art.
There is a moonlight note in the Moonlight Sonata; there is a thunder note in an angry sky.
Although all days are equally long regardless of the season, some days are long not only seasonally but by rewards they offer.
There can be no forced inspiration.
To transform a grimace into a sound sounds impossible, yet it is possible to transform a vision into music, to go outside an enslaved personality, to become impersonal by transforming into sand, into water, into light.
A big desire is not enough to meet the expectations of lost dreams.
Our desire to say more grows bigger and what to say about it, except that saying is not always about saying, growing is not always about growing.
Art is apotheosis; often, the complaint of beauty.
Nature is an outcry, unpolished truth; the art—a euphemism—tamed wilderness.
Be aware of the high notes, of the blissful faces and their soft messages, and listen for the silent message of a highly decorated gift.
A word into the silence thrown always finds its echo somewhere where silence opens hidden lexicons.
He had an answer to almost everything and he retired at an early age.
Even great men bow before the Sun; it melts hubris into humility.
Dreams are our only geography—our native land.
History will be erased in the universal purgatory.
Every thought about death takes a moment of life away.
If birth is a manifestation of life, death is another.
Too often, feelings arrive too soon, waiting for thoughts that often come too late.
In trying to be perfect, he perfected the art of anonymity.
Every man needs his Siren to check his courage and strength when he hears her song in his travels through the unknown.
Words rich in meaning can be cheap in sound effects.
To expect to be kissed having bad breath is the secret of a fool.
To go where no one else has ever gone before is the secret of heroism.
To risk life to save a smile on a face of a woman or a child is the secret of chivalry.
To go against the grain is the secret of bravery.
To write good poems is the secret of brevity.
To keep the air fresh among words is the secret of verbal cleanliness.
We traveled long and forgot why poetry was invented.
I imagined I was God for a millisecond and became speechless for a long time.
Beauty is a cheap word, but beauty remains priceless.
It is beautiful to express love and even more beautiful to feel it.
It is beautiful to talk about beautiful things and even more beautiful to silently gaze at them.
To understand possible means to understand impossible.
Based on the law of probability, everything is possible because the sheer existence of possibility confirms the existence of impossibility.
I visited many places, some of them quite exotic and far away, but I always returned to myself.
When I want to be reminded of stupidity, especially my own, I turn on the TV.
To cut and tighten sentences is the secret of mastery.
To hide feelings when you are near crying is the secret of dignity.
To leave out beautiful sunsets is the secret of good taste.
Pretense cannot sustain blind power.
Nothing reminds us of an awakening more than rain.
Those who hate rain hate life.
Possible is more a matter of attitude, a matter of decision, to choose among the impossible possibilities, when one sound opportunity becomes a possible solution.
Possible impossibility emerges from an impossible possibility, or possibly, impossible possibility blooms from the impossibly possible impossibility.
Why poetry, you ask? Because of life, I answer.
When there is noise and crowds, there is trouble; when everything is silent and perfect, there is just perfection and nothing to fill the air.
If an ancient man saw planes two thousand years ago, he would've thought they were birds or angels from another world or messengers from other planets.
Courage is more important than to be deceived by shallow victory waiting for a delayed defeat.
Dream by making and make by dreaming.
Busy with the ugliness of the expensive success we forget the easiness of free beauty lying sad right around the corner, only an instant removed, unnoticed and squandered.
To not say all that can be said is the secret of discipline and economy.
To say more while saying less is the secret of being simple.
The most complicated skill is to be simple.
There is only as much space, only as much time, only as much desire, only as many words, only as many pages, only as much ink to accept all of us at light-speed hurrying into the Promised Land of oblivion that is waiting for us sooner or later.
If unjustified, ambition kills value, eats its own life, kills someone else's desire to fly, cuts their wings, sucks their air.
Get out, but don't cause unneeded accidents.
Since there is no real silence, silence will contain all the sounds, all the words, all the languages, all knowledge, all memory.
Since nothing is absolute, there is no absolute silence, only an appearance of temporary peace.
A word only writes its night and rides its dream.
To sense the peace of extinguished passion, happiness in not knowing the ultimate knowledge.
If emptiness is empty, how can something be borne or awaken from it?
If emptiness is endless, then everything rests in emptiness.
Nothing is part of everything.
Without nothing, everything would be nothing.
From everything, nothing looks to nothing.
When everything hurries everywhere, nothing goes anywhere.
When he is most powerful, nothing does he become.
To come to nothing through something is the way to outside from both sides.
Neither alive nor dead; no one lets up, no one wins.
He awaits himself while walking, out of the icy circle to escape.
He knows he will be born again, and start fresh anew.
When magic through nerves and reason passes, imagination, force, and passion will thunder. The portrait of the world is changed.
To jump over centuries in one step is impossible. Jump too high or far, you’ll be way too late.
A hidden spark of the dream sleeps in the forest and waits in the celestial spheres of the brain.
All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated to go peacefully and enjoy the eternal nap.
To the knights of faith nobody believes.
New Rome will be destroyed by the attacks of new vandals. God always remains silent.
Vandals listen only when others are stronger. If vandals are equal or stronger, their word is the last word.
Deliver thunder, God, if you don’t choose to talk.
In the end, the world returns to a grain.
Digressions are part of harmony, deviations too.
Earth is the source of light.
Color is the overpowering of black; white – the final victory over black.
From what you didn’t say, lies that you did say.
The eyesight for an eagle is what thought is to a man.
The world cannot be translated; it can only be dreamed of and touched.
Forget decorated generals, tell me about Private Ryan.
Tell me something only you know and make a new friend.
Without space, there is no time.
Before the first before and after the last after, there is night waiting.
Accidents are not accidents but precise arrivals at the wrong right time.
Love is almost never simple.
With your goal you make the one.
Heavenly bodies are nests of invisible birds.
It is vain futility to analyze the algebra of time.
Every star was once darker than the night, before it awoke.
The world is a navy in an empty ocean.
Devil and God – two sides of the same face.
When within yourself you find the road, the right road will open.
In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps.
In an endless silence even screams sound silent.
While the world sleeps, darkness and silence are awake.
It is futile to spend time telling stories about the fleetness of each day.
What a life! True life is elsewhere. We are not in the world.
When the star dies, its eye closes; tired of watching, it flies back to its first bright dream.
They are both spectacular, life and death.
What you gain here, you lose on the other side.
Mathematics doesn’t care about those beyond the numbers.
I lose faith in mathematics, logical and rigid. What with those that even zero doesnt accept?
I lose faith in mathematics, logical and rigid. What with those that even zero doesn’t accept?
With me: one minus one = one; with you: it’s zero. Here lies the only difference.
My mathematics is simple: one plus one = one.
And this that you call solitude is in fact a big crowd.
I enjoy it when the world smiles; the more smiles, the warmer I am.
I recreate myself; that is my only power.
One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.
Wherever I go, I run into myself.
He will understand when it is too late that it is easier to love.
Nothing is made, nothing disappears. These are the old truths. The same changes, at the same places, never stopping.

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