The past, the present and the future are really one: they are today.

Strange, what brings these past things so vividly back to us, sometimes!

Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present.

To be really great in little things, to be truly noble and heroic in the insipid details of everyday life, is a virtue so rare as to be worthy of canonization.

Past and future monopolize the poet’s sensory and intellectual faculties, detached from the immediate spectacle. These two philtres become utterly clear the moment one stops being hypnotized by the cloudy precipitate constituted by the world of today.

Yesterday is ashes; tomorrow wood. Only today the fire shines brightly