“The sea is an idiom I cannot decipher.”

In my next life I will try to commit more errors.

Poetry remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art.

Then I reflect that all things happen, happen to one, precisely now. Century follows century, and things happen only in the present. There are countless men in the air, on land and at sea, and all that really happens happens to me.

Reality favors symmetry.

Writing is nothing more than a guided dream.

I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me.

Creativity is suspended between memory and forgetting.

I suppose identity depends on memory. And if my memory is blotted out, then I wonder if I exist – I mean, if I am the same person. Of course, I don’t have to solve that problem. It’s up to God, if any.

I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn’t expect to arrive.

Reality may avoid the obligation to be interesting, but hypotheses may not.

In adultery, there is usually tenderness and self-sacrifice; in murder, courage; in profanation and blasphemy, a certain satanic splendour. Judas elected those offences unvisited by any virtues: abuse of confidence and informing.

I am not sure of anything, I know nothing. Can you imagine that I don’t even know the date of my own death?

You may win your heart’s desire, but in the end you’re cheated of it by death.

To die for a religion is easier than to live it absolutely.

When one confesses to an act, one ceases to be an actor in it and becomes its witness, becomes a man that observes and narrates it and no longer the man that performed it.

I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books.

Drawing is a way of coming upon the connection between things, just like metaphor in poetry reconnects what has become separated.

The family is changing not disappearing. We have to broaden our understanding of it, look for the new metaphors.

There are few things as toxic as a bad metaphor. You can’t think without metaphors.

What is the other text, the original? I have no answer. I suppose it is the source, the deep sea where ideas swim, and one catches them in nets of words and swings them shining into the boat… where in this metaphor they die and get canned and eaten in sandwiches.

I think the song itself, ‘Smoke and Fire,’ is just a metaphor for the feelings that you feel in a relationship.

The caged eagle become a metaphor for all forms of isolation, the ultimate in imprisonment. A zoo is prison.

Golf is a great example to me. Golf is a metaphor of life. I mean, every shot.

To use a metaphor drawn from glass, it may be revealing for us to re-focus.