The moon had been observing the earth close-up longer than anyone. But the moon remained silent; it told no stories. All it did was embrace the heavy past with a cool, measured detachment. No one could unlock the heart of the moon.
Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering
If we reverse the outer shell and the essence – in other words, consider the outer shell the essence, and the essence only the shell- our lives might be a whole lot easier to understand.
All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by the rush of water. Every time you see a flood like that on the news, you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.
As if to build a fence around the fatal emptiness inside her, she had to create the sunny person that she became. But if you peeled away the ornamental egos that she built, there was only an abyss of nothingness and the intense thirst that came with it. Though she tried to forget it, the nothingness would visit periodically – on a lonely rainy afternoon, or at dawn when she woke up from a nightmare. What she needed at such times was to be held by someone, anyone.
It’s hard to tell the difference between sea and sky, between voyager and sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart.
Is it possible, in the final analysis, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?
We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person’s essence?
We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?