A man should not love the moon. An ax should not lose weight in his hand. His garden should smell of rotting apples, And grow a fair amount of nettles.

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

The child who dwells inside us trusts that there are wise men somewhere who know the truth.

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.

Language is the only homeland.

Even if that is so, there will remain A word wakened by lips that perish, A tireless messenger who runs and runs Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies, And calls out, protests, screams.

All of us yearn for the highest wisdom, but we have to rely on ourselves in the end.