“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.”

“Poems On TimeThe butterfly counts not months but moments,and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change,but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Timelike dew on the tip of a leaf.”

“I haven’t started counting yet. I wonder if it’s just me or if it’s like that for everybody; that every time someone dies you start counting how much time has passed since they’ve been gone. First you count it in minutes, then in hours. You count in days, then weeks, then months. Then one day you realize that you aren’t counting anymore, and you don’t even know when you stopped. That’s the moment they’re gone.”

“To say they had waited for months or even years to find each other again would not be accurate. Love runs on another time track. It can't be counted down and won't allow itself to be defined as terminable. For Reid and Lena, it could have been months, years or a lifetime because at that moment, it was as if no time had passed at all.”

“But what are years, what are months!" he would exclaim. "Why count the days, when even one day is enough for man to know all happiness.”

“Green was the silence, wet was the light,the month of June trembled like a butterfly.”