Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.

The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.

We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.

The risk it takes to remain tight inside the bud is more painful than the risk it takes to blossom.

Too late for changes, too late perhaps for explanations and ideological webs, but the love goes on, the love goes on, blind to laws and warnings and even to wisdom and to fears. And whatever that love is, perhaps an illusion of a new love, I want it, I can't resist it, my whole being melts in one kiss, my knowledge melts, my fears melt, my blood dances, my legs open.