Writing is a marvelous adventure and very labor-intensive: those words run away and try to escape. They are very difficult to capture.

I am quite prehistoric, absolutely prehistoric.

The poet, distracted by politics, asks of poetry that it make itself useful like metal or flour, that it get ready to stain its face with coal dust and fight body to body.

Soccer, metaphor for war, at times turns into real war.

We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine.

Celebration of the Human Voice--- When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice. When denied a mouth, it speaks with the hands or the eyes, or the pores, or anything at all. Because every single one of us has something to say to the others, something that deserves to be celebrated or forgiven by others.

Always in all my books I'm trying to reveal or help to reveal the hidden greatness of the small, of the little, of the unknown - and the pettiness of the big.