The secret wish of poetry is to stop time.

I left parts of myself everywhere, The way absent-minded people leave Gloves and umbrellas Whose colors are sad from dispensing so much bad luck

Poetry: three mismatched shoes at the entrance of a dark alley.

Poems are other people's snapshots in which we see our own lives.

The ambition of much of today's literary theory seems to be to find ways to read literature without imagination.

The stars know everything, So we try to read their minds. As distant as they are, We choose to whisper in their presence.

One writes because one has been touched by the yearning for and the despair of ever touching the Other.