I too saw the wooden horse blocking the stars.

You can't write drunk.

The truest writers are those who see language not as a linguistic process but as a living element.

I try to forget what happiness was, and when that don't work, I study the stars.

We read, we travel, we become.

How can I turn from Africa and live?

For every poet it is always morning in the world; history a forgotten, insomniac night. The fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world in spite of history.