He moves in darkness as it seems to meNot of woods only and the shade of trees.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feetWhen far away an interrupted cryCame over houses from another street,But not to call me back or say good-bye;And further still at an unearthly height,A luminary clock against the skyProclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.I have been one acquainted with the night.

Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.

Stop living the life with possibilities and probabilities, live the life with certainties.

Only the writers can change or fix the past by going back to edit old works

The only calling we have is to __O