« We must cultivate silence within ourselves, for it is only in it that unexpected and eternal flowers open for an instant, changing shape and color according to the soul we find ourselves next to. Souls weigh themselves in silence, as gold and silver weigh themselves in pure water, and the words we pronounce have meaning only thanks to the silence in which they bathe. » (Maurice Maeterlinck)
« It is that love is like a tree, it grows of its own accord, throws its roots deep into our whole being, and often continues to grow green on a ruined heart. And what is inexplicable is that the more blind this passion is, the more tenacious it is. It is never more solid than when it has no reason in it. »(Victor Hugo)
« Who can say where the flowers of passing time go? Who can say where the flowers of times past are? When the pretty season came, the young girls picked them, When will we ever know, When will we ever know?
Who can say where the girls of time go? Who can say where the girls from days gone by are? When the time comes for songs, they are given to the boys, When will we ever know, When will we ever know?
But where are all the boys going as time passes? But where are the boys of the past? When the drum rolled, they became little soldiers, When will we ever know, When will we ever know?
But where are all the soldiers of the passing time going? But where are all the soldiers from times gone by? Have fallen in battle, and lying beneath their prey, When will we ever know, When will we ever know? It is made of so many crosses, the time that passes, It is made of so many crosses, time has passed, Poor tombs of oblivion, the flowers have invaded them, When will we ever know, When will we ever know?
Who can say where the flowers of passing time go? Who can say where the flowers of times past are? When the pretty season came, the young girls picked them, When will we ever know, When will we know…ever?. »