May the devil himself splatter you with dung.

Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.

Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.

Lack of manners is the sign of a hero.

The audience bursts into laughter. With the tragic gag I don't expect the audience to laugh (if they do, I have failed) but I expect a black silence from them that is almost as violent: as laughter.

Celebrity: I picture myself as a marble bust with legs to run everywhere.

The job of the poet (a job which can't be learned) consists of placing those objects of the visible world which have become invisible due to the glue of habit, in an unusual position which strikes the soul and gives them a tragic force.