The act of love . . . is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself.
Albert Camus
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This Little Bird
There's a little bird that somebody sent
Down to the earth to live on the wind
Going on the wind and he sleeps on the wind
This little bird that somebody sent
He's light and fragile and feathered sky blue
So thin and graceful the sun shines through
This little bird who lives on the wind
This little bird that somebody sent
He flies so high up in the sky
Way out of reach of human eye
And the only time that he touches the ground
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird
Is when that little bird dies