I felt his gaze, I heard his moan, And knew his hunger as my own. - Edna St. Vincent Millay

To a Young Poet

Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird.
Bird and wing together
Go down, one feather.

No thing that ever flew,
Not the lark, not you,
Can die as others do.

A infância não vai do nascimento até certa idade,e a certa altura a criança está crescida,deixando de lado as coisas de criança.A infância é o reino onde ninguém morre.

I would I were alive again to kiss the fingers of the rain.