How could you know what the sweet-sad childhood remembrance, the playful joy, the childish-naive curiosity, could have been known to the moment, when the sacred gates of free sense were secretly adopted by the understanding mind, the maternal care.

That the footprint of the long-standing eternal love may never disappear in the periodical limits of the time, as they are now in the depths of the drummering perits, and as dormant Atlantis Continents are still patiently waiting for them to be re-addressed in the name of sincere emotions.

It is often so worrying everyday life in Sififus's burden on how dark the clouds are sitting on each average human heart. Or  
How unfair was all the bice-shaded bumps that we once learned to walk, and while some were crying and giggling on the ground, others sprinkled themselves and went on, glorifying the joy of movement alone.

That momentary happiness may be worth more than the continuous forty years of lasting, the bitter -sweet, lasting isolation. That nowadays there are more and more worm-heart tarcks and fewer pearls in human stars.

How do you know that when someone as a teenager was not seen in the cross -section of the mirrors looked like a duckling duckling - but the one who was meant to be. How could a crowd know what it is like to be ill in the deadly round of the dear unexpected-suddenly minutes, and the passing away from birth is captivated. I say with questioning sadness: You have no idea!