“I was left behind with the immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering because it cannot saturate itself; a river, suffering because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds and trees.”

The revolt against one’s environment is usually ‘shame’ of one’s environment.

The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.

I have no wisdom, no skills, and no faith but I received strength, it tears the world apart. I shall break, a heavy wave, against its shores and a young wave will cover my trace.

You who think of us: they lived only in delusion, Know that we the People of the Book, will never die!

Poetry is news brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.

The living owe it to those who no longer can speak to tell their story for them.

At every sunrise I renounce the doubts of night and greet the new day of a most precious delusion.

I am composed of contradictions, which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy.

And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is not a sign, But just a thrush on the branch? If night and day Make no sense following each other?

The purpose of poetry is to remind us / how difficult it is to remain just one person.

Yet falling in love is not the same as being able to love.

Consolation Calm down. Both your sins and your good deeds will be lost in oblivion.

When a writer is born into a family, the family is finished.

What is this enigmatic impulse that does not allow one to settle down in the achieved, the finished? I think it is a quest for reality.

If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?

I’m believing that miracles and blessings still exist.

Everything that is possible demands to exist.

You and I flirt in ways they don’t know exist.

I found the purpose of my existence, and also the purpose of my circumstance. There’s a purpose for why you’re in the fire.

I have said more than once, that I hold space to be something purely relative, as time; an order of coexistences, as time is an order of successions.

Where envy reigns virtue can’t exist, and generosity doesn’t go with meanness.

When you compare yourself to others you deny that your own magic exists.

Around existence twine, (Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!) ropes of twisted vine.