Best of all he loved the fall.

The leaves yellow on the cottonwoods.

Leaves floating on the trout streams above the hills.

The high blue windless skies.

Now he will be part of them forever.

— Hemingway
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


In spring of youth it was my lot
 To haunt of the wide world a spot
 The which I could not love the less--
 So lovely was the loneliness
 Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
 And the tall pines that towered around.

But when the Night had thrown her pall
 Upon that spot, as upon all,
 And the mystic wind went by
 Murmuring in melody--
 Then--ah then I would awake
 To the terror of the lone lake.

Yet that terror was not fright,
 But a tremulous delight--
 A feeling not the jewelled mine
 Could teach or bribe me to define--
 Nor Love--although the Love were thine.

Death was in that poisonous wave,
 And in its gulf a fitting grave
 For him who thence could solace bring
 To his lone imagining--
 Whose solitary soul could make
 An Eden of that dim lake.
— Edgar Allan Poe

Passeth the moon with her sickle of light,

Slowly, slowly fadeth she,

Weary of reaping the barren night

And the desolate shuddering sea.

— Yeats, The Island of Statues

“It is the story of the Common Man, of the ordinary men and women who in their countless thousands have trudged through life and then departed from it, leaving little visible trace.”

— Rowland Parker, from “The Common Stream”

I don’t believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms

Into my arms, O Lord

— Nick Cave

But you know by now it’s half past late
And I only came here for escape
You, you’re just my next mistake
Like me to you

— Two Gallants

It is comic that a mentally disordered man picks up any piece of granite and carries it around because he thinks it is money, and in the same way it is comic that Don Juan has 1,003 mistresses, for the number simply indicates that they have no value. Therefore, one should stay within one’s means in the use of the word “love”

— Søren Kierkegaard

Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.

— Epicurus

The only moment of possible happiness, is the present. The past gives regrets. And future uncertainties. Man quickly realised this and created religion. It forgives him what he has done wrong in the past and tells him not to worry about the future, as you will go to paradise.

— Arsène Wenger

“I was walking down the road with two friends when the sun set; suddenly, the sky turned as red as blood. I stopped and leaned against the fence, feeling unspeakably tired. Tongues of fire and blood stretched over the bluish black fjord. My friends went on walking, while I lagged behind, shivering with fear. Then I heard the enormous infinite scream of nature.”

— Edvard Munch
I think I’ll find a pair of eyes tonight, to fall into
And maybe strike a deal
Your body for my soul, fair swap
Cause’ cheap is how I feel
— Cowboy Junkies

TIME drops in decay,

Like a candle burnt out,

And the mountains and woods

Have their day, have their day;

What one in the rout

Of the fire-born moods

Has fallen away?

— W. B. Yeats