* From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. Sara Teasdale, ‘Refuge’ Photo: Millennium Park, Chicago. 2026

* People who have never had a broken heart will never understand dead roses, Tolstoy, airport lounges, Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor, neat brandy, the moon and drizzle. - Wendy Harmer Photo: Michigan Avenue, Chicago. 2025

* This world A fading Mountain echo Void and Unreal Within A light snow Three Thousand Realms Within those realms Light snow falls As the snow Engulfs my hut At dusk My heart, too Is completely consumed - Taigu Ryokan Photo: Millennium Park, Chicago. 2025

I want to know if you know how to melt into that fierce heat of living falling toward the center of your longing. ― David Whyte Photo: Art Institute of Chicago. 2025

* Oh, not to be separated,
shut off from the starry dimensions
by so thin a wall. What is within us
if not intensified sky
traversed with birds and deep
with winds of homecoming? - Rainer Maria Rilke Photo: Pilsen, Chicago. 2025

* * The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest. And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower In heaven’s high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night. — William Blake Photo: Art Institute of Chicago. 2025

* The hand in shadow turned the hourglass, And the negligible bit of sand which slides And is silent, is the only thing now heard, And, being heard, doesn't vanish in the dark. - Giuseppe Ungaretti Photo: Art Institute of Chicago. 2025

* And we go on and on, Neither sleeping nor awake, Towards the meeting, unaware That we are already there. - Gabriela Mistral Photo: State Street, Chicago. 2025

* The fires of night through distance dance ghosts who still know how to sing ― Tamara Rendell, ‘Mystical Tides’ Photo: South Michigan Avenue, Chicago. 2025

* The hand in shadow turned the hourglass, And the negligible bit of sand which slides And is silent, is the only thing now heard, And, being heard, doesn't vanish in the dark. - Giuseppe Ungaretti Photo: Grand Boulevard, Chicago. 2025