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I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I loveIf you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.You will hardly know who I am or wha...more

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Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.

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poor boy! I never knew you, Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you

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A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it...more

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What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, ...more