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

The time will come when, with elation, you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror, and each will smile at the other’s welcome.

We look and see what we see in a mirror, and we believe it. That's important, the question of belief. The question is: Should we believe what we see in a mirror?

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.

Time is the metre, memory the only plot.

She's a rare vase, out of a cat's reach, on its shelf.

If you know what you are going to write when you're writing a poem, it's going to be average.