In the lie of truth lies the truth.
Hope without love is hopeless.
What we call life is only talk of nature.
Holy books are an insult to a God with good intentions.
The light teaches you to convert life into a festive promenade.
We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness.
A big desire is not enough to meet the expectations of lost dreams
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.
It is easy to see the glow but hard to recognize the awakening of silence.
Wherever there is somebody else, a war is not far away.
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