Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.
I once heard a learned man say, "Every evil has its remedy, except folly. To reprimand an obstinate fool or to preach to a dolt is like writing upon the water. Christ healed the blind, the halt, the palsied, and the leprous. But the fool He could not cure."
Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.
Yes, there is a Nirvanah; it is leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem
Words are timeless. You should utter them or write them with a knowledge of their timelessness.
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