Love After Love all your life, whom you have ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.

The first thing we have to do is get rid of the pentameter. To ditch the pentameter.

The future happens. No matter how much we scream.

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

A culture, we all know, is made by its cities.

The sigh of History rises over ruins, not over landscapes, and in the Antilles there are few ruins to sigh over, apart from the ruins of sugar estates and abandoned forts.

We make too much of that long groan which underlines the past.