Days go past and days come still,
All is old and all is new,
What is well and what is ill,
You imagine and construe:
Do not hope and do not fear,
Waves that leap like waves must fall;
Should they praise or should they jeer,
Look but coldly on it all.

Things you'll meet of many a kind,
Sights and sounds, and tales no end,
But to keep them all in mind
Who would ( Read more... )

Just by living one's life, sadness accumulates constantly, here and there, little by little, be it in the sheets hung out in the sun to dry, the toothbrushes in the bathroom, or the history logs on the cellphone. And one morning, I realized that I have lost all that was beautiful.