Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy, Repeats while he binds his tomatoes: No other end of the world will there be, No other end of the world will there be.

You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.

The voice of passion is better than the voice of reason. The passionless cannot change history.

Evil grows and bears fruit, which is understandable, because it has logic and probability on its side and also, of course, strength. The resistance of tiny kernels of good, to which no one grants the power of causing far-reaching consequences, is entirely mysterious, however. Such seeming nothingness not only lasts but contains within itself enormous energy which is revealed gradually.

It's true that what is morbid is highly valued today, and so you may think that I am only joking or that I've devised just one more means of praising Art with the help of irony.

The purpose of poetry is to remind us / how difficult it is to remain just one person.

We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.