Wound me . . . I can only feed on my humiliated blood.
One rose is enough for the dawn
What is not grasped has all the chances to become real.
My hands are full when you give me your hand.
By the light of our insistent truths we wander into death
As long as we are not chased from our words we have nothing to fear. As long as our utterances keep their sound we have a voice. As long as our words keep their sense we have a soul.