And when she was finished they laid her in earth Flowers growing, butterflies juggling over her... She, so light, barely pressed the earth down How much pain it took to make her as light as that!

Oh why do we not say the important things, it would be so easy, and we are damned because we do not.

Worship with fulness of heart the weak memory of heaven! It cannot trace Either your name or your face Nobody knows you're still living.

Art and science coincide insofar as both aim to improve the lives of men and women. The latter normally concerns itself with profit, the former with pleasure. …

When all desire at last and all regret Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain, What shall assuage the unforgotten pain And teach the unforgetful to forget?

Always remember the last words of my grandfather, who said: 'A truck!'

Another old friend gone!