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

Any serious attempt to try to do something worthwhile is ritualistic.

When you get a class reciting some great poems, it'll tear your heart out.

Damn wind shift sudden as a woman mind.

How can I turn from Africa and live?

We read, we travel, we become.

Slowly my body grows a single sound, slowly I become a bell, an oval, disembodied vowel, I grow, an owl, an aureole, white fire poesia "Metamorfosi, I. Luna