When along the pavement,
Palpitating flames of life,
People flicker around me,
I forget my bereavement,
The gap in the great constellation,
The place where a star used to be

If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?

There is nothing to save, now all is lost,
but a tiny core of stillness in the heart
like the eye of a violet.

The human consciousness is really homogeneous. There is no complete forgetting, even in death.

Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion.

Naught is possessed, neither gold, nor land nor love, nor life, nor peace, nor even sorrow nor death, nor yet salvation. Say of nothing: It is mine. Say only: It is with me.