“I think that I am here, on this earth, to present a report on it, but to whom I don’t know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place has meaning because it changes into memory.”

It’s true that what is morbid is highly valued today, and so you may think that I am only joking or that I’ve devised just one more means of praising Art with the help of irony.

We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.

The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

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.

Be young forever, seasons of the earth.

Language is the only homeland.

Do you know how it is when one wakes at night suddenly and asks, listening to the pounding heart: what more do you want, insatiable?

All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.

For a country without a past is nothing, a word That, hardly spoken, loses its meaning, A perishable wall destroyed by flame, An echo of animal emotions.

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.

Who we are in the present includes who we were in the past.

There won’t be space for more light until you take a step to change what isn’t right.

Some things won’t change-some things can’t.

Change alone is unchanging.

Grief changes shape, but it never ends.

I’m am who i am i can’t change.

Forever a young Nigga never changing on da gang.

And life went on. It was not the same, but it went on.