I don't know. Haven't I always been mature?
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Failure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.
A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance.
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
Life is but a day: A fragile dewdrop on its perilious way From a tree's summit
I don't think human beings learn anything without desperation. Desperation is a necessary ingredient to learning anything or creating anything. Period. If you ain't desperate at some point, you ain't interesting.
I have experience and I am employing it in the service of a Chilean road for Chile's problems. We always take advantage of experience wherever it comes from, but adapting it to our reality. I am putting it to use in a Chilean way, for the problems of Chile. We are not anyone's mental colonists.
The work of art assumes the existence of the perfect spectator, and is indifferent to the fact that no such person exists.
We could overcome the baser aspects of our nature. . . and give this planet the kind of caretakers it deserves.