If you do not raise your eyes you will think you are the highest point. Antonio Porchia You do not see the river of mourning because it lacks one tear of your own. Antonio Porchia My poverty is not complete: it lacks me. Antonio Porchia That in man which cannot be domesticated is not his evil but his goodness. Antonio Porchia Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly. Antonio Porchia Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. Antonio Porchia One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
You do not see the river of mourning because it lacks one tear of your own. Antonio Porchia My poverty is not complete: it lacks me. Antonio Porchia That in man which cannot be domesticated is not his evil but his goodness. Antonio Porchia Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly. Antonio Porchia Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. Antonio Porchia One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
My poverty is not complete: it lacks me. Antonio Porchia That in man which cannot be domesticated is not his evil but his goodness. Antonio Porchia Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly. Antonio Porchia Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. Antonio Porchia One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
That in man which cannot be domesticated is not his evil but his goodness. Antonio Porchia Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly. Antonio Porchia Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. Antonio Porchia One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
Those who gave away their wings are sad not to see them fly. Antonio Porchia Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. Antonio Porchia One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow. Antonio Porchia One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. Antonio Porchia Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides. Antonio Porchia In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia
In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia