And at least in poetry you should feel free to lie. That is, not to lie, but to imagine what you want, to follow the direction of the poem.
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This is a more detailed analysis of the quote. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Curabitur nisl mi, vestibulum quis ligula vel, feugiat finibus risus. Integer quam ligula, consectetur eget ante et, posuere laoreet erat. Aenean sit amet erat sed elit consectetur tincidunt. Praesent sed quam placerat, egestas magna a, vestibulum nisi. Proin cursus elit lorem, in laoreet tellus tristique eu. Nunc vel tortor luctus, venenatis lectus sit amet, ultricies velit. Proin tincidunt hendrerit elit nec sagittis. Donec ut dictum risus.
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Once you start describing nothingness, you end up with somethingness.
If every head of state and every government official spent an hour a day reading poetry we'd live in a much more humane and decent world.
These wrinkles are nothing These gray hairs are nothing, This stomach which sags with old food, these bruised and swollen ankles, my darkening brain, they are nothing. I am the same boy my mother used to kiss.
We’re only here for a short while. And I think it’s such a lucky accident, having been born, that we’re almost obliged to pay attention.
Even this late it happens the coming of love, the coming of light. You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, sending up warm bouquets of air. Even this late the bones of the body shine and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.
Each moment is a place you've never been.
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