The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

In the vastness of the universe, our problems seem small, yet our potential for understanding is limitless.

当我死去时，都柏林将写在我的心上。

I've learned that you can't control everything, and sometimes you just have to let go.

诗人必须像一棵树，扎根于故土，从中汲取养分才能结出果实。