Pity for him who one day looks upon his inward sphinx and questions it. He is lost. - Rubén Darío

Blessed is the almost insensitive tree,
more blessed is the hard stone that doesn't feel,
for no pain is greater than the pain of being alive,
and no sorrow more intense than conscious life.

The tree is happy because it is scarcely sentient;
the hard rock is happier still, it feels nothing:
there is no pain as great as being alive,
no burden heavier than that of conscious life.

I seek a form that my style cannot discover,
a bud of thought that wants to be a rose.