I am composed of contradictions, which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy

I am not my own friend.Time cuts me in two.

When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset.

Consolation Calm down. Both your sins and your good deeds will be lost in oblivion.

The partition separating life from death is so tenuous. The unbelievable fragility of our organism suggests a vision on a screen: a kind of mist condenses itself into a human shape, lasts a moment and scatters.

A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.

I knew that I would speak in the language of the vanquished No more durable than old customs, family rituals, Christmas tinsel, and once a year the hilarity of carols.