Do not misunderstand, my friend. âI do not exist to impress the world. I exist to live my life in a way that will make me happy.â - Richard Bach (at The High Line)
Cosimo Galluzzi

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@moontingli
Do not misunderstand, my friend. âI do not exist to impress the world. I exist to live my life in a way that will make me happy.â - Richard Bach (at The High Line)
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind. Streets coming fast, One after the other, Wedge you away from me, And the lamps of the city prick my eyes So that I can no longer see your face. Why should I leave you, To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?
- Amy Lowell, The Taxi
âI overcame myself, the sufferer; I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for my self.â â Friedrich NietzscheÂ
Innsbruck, Austria
âNight is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning.â â Elie Weasel (Dawn)
Home, NYC. (at Midtown manhattan)
âIn loneliness, the lonely one eats himself; in a crowd, the many eat him. Now choose.â â Friedrich Nietzsche
âIs there something down by the water keeping itself from us, Some shy event, some secret of the light that falls upon the deep, Some source of sorrow that does not wish to be discovered yet?â
â Mark Strand, from section I of âOur Masterpiece is the Private Life,â in Blizzard of One (Alfred A. Knopf, 1998)
Geneva, Switzerland.
Peonies are my favorite. Stems of morning glory, leaves of mint, fragrance of rose, and petals of gigantic carnation in fifty shades of pink. đ
Home, Vienna.
âI am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.â â Virginia Woolf
Paris. (at UNESCO)
âRealize that life is the best thing ever, and that you have no business taking it for granted.â â Anna Quindlen
Provence, France.
âYou know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? Thatâs where Iâll always love you. Thatâs where Iâll be waiting.â â J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
Provence, France.
âMy quietness has a man in it, he is transparent and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.â â Frank OâHara, from âIn Memory of My Feelings,â
Venice, Italy.
âMy soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.â â Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
Venice, Italy.
Reading Walden by the Leman lake is probably the best one of a kind experience that Geneva could ever offer.Â
It also reminds me of Byronâs word: There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.Â
Perhaps he was staring at the same view that time this spot.
Geneva, Switzerland.
âWe are told that people stay in love because of chemistry, or because they remain intrigued with each other, because of many kindnesses, because of luck. But part of it has got to be forgiveness and gratefulness.â â Ellen Goodman
Paris.
âEn ce temps-lĂ je cherchais les soirs, les banlieues et le malheur; je cherche maintenant les matins, le centre et la sĂ©rĂ©nitĂ©.â - J.L.Borges
Paris.
Summer breakfast in Provence, France.
Venice awakes from a siesta in the colors of a summer afternoon dream.
Burano, Italy.