The Night is young & full of rest, I can't describe the way she's dress'd, She'll pander to some strange requests, Anything that you suggest, Anything to please her guest.

The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

I still like to live in a whimsical world that seems more romantic and fantasy-related because real life seems so hard.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.

Some day I shall sing to thee in the sunrise of some other world, I have seen thee before in the light of the earth, in the love of man.