“Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.”

Every novel is an ideal plane inserted into the realm of reality.

The Falklands thing was a fight between two bald men over a comb.

A system is nothing more than the subordination of all aspects of the universe to any one of such aspects.

A writer’s work is the product of laziness.

Poets, like the blind, can see in the dark.

It is clear that there is no classification of the Universe that is not arbitrary and full of conjectures. The reason for this is very simple: we do not know what kind of thing the universe is.

In Spanish it is very difficult to make things flow, because words are over-long. But in English, you have light words.

Chang Tzu tells us of a persevering man who after three laborious years mastered the art of dragon-slaying. For the rest of his days, he had not a single opportunity to test his skills.

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.

Can we take a direct flight back to reality or do we have to change planes in Denver?

I don’t see myself being in the sport a very long period of time, so I want to fight as much as possible.

Beginning with the early dawn of each day, I will radiate joy to everyone I meet. I will be mental sunshine for all who cross my path. Before the unfailing light of my cheer, darkness will take flight.

Love is a power too strong to be overcome by anything but flight.

Meanwhile the Adversary of God and man, Satan with thoughts inflamed of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of hell Explores his solitary flight.

How do you get off a non-stop flight?

Music gives the mind wings, flight to the imagination and life to everything.

Thoughts on a tapestry. Colour or black and white. A brush, a pen, A flash of light. Ideas flowing soon, about to take flight.