Knowledge is finite. Wonder is infinite.
Still I would want to be someone who’d answer to me:
Someone who sees like a child, gives like a saint,
feels like an angel — never mind the broken wings,
and speaks like a picture, cries like the rain, shines like a star,
as long as the fire remains.
You’ve come far and though you’re far from the end,
you don’t mind where you are, cuz you know where you’ve been.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map