travelling into 'the past' yesterday morning, i found the following in my old email account.

Ah, our love is a harsh cord that binds us wounding us
and if we want to leave our wound,
to separate,
it makes a new knot for us and condemns us
to drain our blood and burn together. 
- The Furies - Love, pablo neruda

From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme
I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
-broken dreams, w.b. yeats