“I’d have to be really quick to describe clouds – a split second’s enough for them to start being something else.”

I’m drowning in papers.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

Whatever inspiration is, it’s born from a continuous “I don’t know.

At the very beginning of my creative life I loved humanity. I wanted to do something good for mankind. Soon I understood that it isn’t possible to save mankind.

You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.

I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.

Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.

Any knowledge that doesn’t lead to new questions quickly dies out: it fails to maintain the temperature required for sustaining life.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

My choices are rejections, since there is no other way, but what I reject is more numerous, denser, more demanding than before. A little poem, a sigh, at the cost of indescribable losses.

Existentialists are monumentally and monotonously serious; they don’t like to joke.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Even boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?

They say the first sentence in any speech is always the hardest. Well, that one’s behind me, anyway.

Nothing’s a gift, it’s all on loan.

Look for the Sunlight through the Clouds.

Wise Man: One who sees the storm coming before the clouds appear.

Friends part forever wild geese lost in cloud.

It lies around us like a cloud- A world we do not see; Yet the sweet closing of an eye May bring us there to be.

Behind every cloud is another cloud.

I yearn for the hues of grey along with the rumbling clouds bunched together as an alluring bouquets. I relish those days basking in the crisp air away from sun rays.

I will clamber through the clouds and exist.

All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide; but a hidden star can still be smiling at night’s black spell on darkness, beguiling.