Life is a dimension of tree in the eyes of an insect. Life is strange sence experienced by a migrating bird....

I peel a pomegranate and say to myself; Weren't it good if one could see,the seeds of people hearts ; Tears come when the juice splashes in my eyes

We are not to comprehend;the secret of roses, but maybeswimming in the incantation of roses.Or may be looking forthe song of truthbetween the morning glory,and the century.

آسمان مال من است

پنجره؛عشق؛هوا؛فکر؛زمین

مال من است

چه اهمیت دارد

گاه اگر می رویند

قارچ های غربت

((سهراب سپهری))

Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still

Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all 30 feet tall.