Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becom… - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.

Sometimes, there is no harm in putting off a piece of work until another day.

Men can, of course, be stirred into life by being dressed up in uniforms and made to blare out chants of war. It must be confessed that this is one way for men to break bread with comrades and to find what they are seeking, which is a sense of something universal, of self-fulfillment. But of this bread men die.

Each man carries within him the soul of a poet who died young.