„All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.“

— W.B. Yeats

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„I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.“
— Anne Frank
„The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,And all that famous harmony of leaves,Had blotted out man’s image and his cry.“
— W.B. Yeats