You’re in bed and you’re hearing your parents talk. You’re just hearing the lovely lilt of it. It’s this beautiful music, and you want to be a part of it, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t understand. And that mystery of not knowing what they’re saying is a wonderful mystery. And you’ll never know what they’re saying. Even if you knew the words, you still wouldn’t know what they were saying. I remember that, I remember listening to just the sounds of language and thinking it was so beautiful, or more the intonations, the ups and downs. The contours. Which has an interesting connection with T.S. Eliot, when he said, about The Wasteland, that it doesn’t matter if you don’t know the languages that are in it, you just let it wash over you. That’s an interesting bumping up against that childhood experience, overhearing just the contours. How comforting it is.
 Dorianne Laux, from Mattress Talk
A silver dream of light
Sinks into the great lake
Shadows of trees sink
Into a field with only
Loneliness in the air
No one but me can see
The beauty and dreams
Inside the silver moonlight
The world turns and the time
Comes when the silver light
Meets the golden sunlight
— Christopher Fox, “Silver Moonlight
It’s usually enough for me to look at you and feel I love you. But there are moments when I wish I could get at your own real feelings.
— Jean-Paul Sartre, from The Age Of Reason
The moon is full and the lake lies still and lovely — this place is like heaven — and I am in love with life.
— Margaret Mead, The Selected Letters of Margaret Mead
I love the rain. I love how it softens the outlines of things. The world becomes softly blurred, and I feel like I melt right into it.
— Hanamoto Hagumi, Honey and Clover 
Listen, my heart, to the whispers of the world with which it makes love to you.
Rabindranath Tagore, from Stray Birds (Macmillan Company, 1916)
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of
Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.
— Rabindranath Tagore
If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars.
— Rabindranath Tagore 
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
— Cesare Pavese, This Business of Living