We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.
Heavenly bodies are nests of invisible birds.
Through a forest of challenges, thought moves and squirms, resisting beguilements; if it endures, it emerges pure.
Art is apotheosis; Often, the complaint of beauty.
History will be erased in the universal purgatory.
The farther away, the closer the home becomes.
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.
A smiling lie is a whirlwind, easy to enter, but hard to escape.
I can see myself before myself - a being through dark scenery.
Neruda had his first dream, First meeting with the Moon and the Sun In sunny La Mancha, hiding in his heart, Where he learned how to sing like a nightingale.
When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.
Will the day tell its secret Before it disappears, Becomes timeless night.
We measure everything by ourselves with almost a necessary conceit.
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