“All the poems of the poet who has entered into his poethood are poems of homecoming.”

Technology is therefore no mere means. Technology is a way of revealing.

The possible ranks higher than the actual.

Nothing is everything that doesn’t happen at this very moment.

To say philosophy originates in wonder means philosophy is wondrous in its essence and becomes more wondrous the more it becomes what it really is.

Language speaks and not the human.

Technology is a mode of revealing. Technology comes to presence in the realm where revealing and unconcealment take place, where aletheia, truth, happens.

To be a poet in a destitute time means: to attend, singing, to the trace of the fugitive gods. This is why the poet in the time of the world’s night utters the holy.

If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life – and only then will I be free to become myself.

Questioning is the piety of thought.

Everyone is the other and no one is himself.

Beauty is one way in which truth essentially occurs as unconcealment.

Truth is that which makes a people certain, clear, and strong.

Understanding of being is itself a determination of being of Da-sein.

Let himself be drawn hither by the coercion of the phenomena themselves.

Making itself intelligible is suicide for philosophy.

Poetically dwells man upon this earth.

To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too: Dante, Avignon, a song of Shakespeare’s, the Cornish sea.

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.

Every day one should at least hear one little song, read one good poem, see one fine painting and – if at all possible – speak a few sensible words.

And if I say this is a wonderful poem, Is that exaggeration?

I am writing these poems From inside a lion.

This is a poem about love its absence is merely an optical illusion.

Every letter of every poem is one more moment with you.

I could write another love poem but my metaphors get mixed like the drinks I had the night that more than our paths crossed – strongly.