"Ikaw ang pag-asang tanglaw sa dilim Napapawi hirap at pighati Langit ang buhay tuwing ika’y hahagkan Anong ligaya tuwing kita’y pagmasdan Sa piling mo, ang gabi tila araw Ikaw ang pangarap Ikaw lamang.”
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatter’d visage lies, whose frown Had wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamp’d on these lifeless things, The hand that mock’d them and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.
“You can never have too much sky. You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful.”—Sandra Cisneros (via suzywire)