Love Possesses Seven Hundred Wings, And Each

The Ripe Fignow That You Live Here In My Chest,anywhere We Sit Is A Mountaintop.and Those Other Images,which Have Enchanted Peoplelike Porcelain Dolls From China,which Have Made Men And Women Weepfor Centuries, Even Those Have Changed Now.what Used To Be Pain Is A Lovely Benchwhere We Can Rest Under The Roses.a Left Hand Has Become A Right.a Dark Wall, A Window.a Cushion In A Shoe Heel,the Leader Of The Community!now Silence. What We Sayis Poison To Someand Nourishing To Others.what We Say Is A Ripe Fig,but Not Every Bird That Flieseats Figs.

If Your Knowledge Of Fire Has Been Turned To Certainty By Words Alone, Then Seek To Be Cooked By The Fire Itself. Don't Abide In Borrowed Certainty. There Is No Real Certainty Until You Burn; If You Wish For This, Sit Down In The Fire.

This Poetry. I Never Know What I'm Going To Say.

If You Want Money More Than Anything, You'll Be Bought And Sold Your Whole Life.

A Lover's Life Lies In Death. You Shall Not Find A Heart Without Losing The Heart.