I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me.

Censorship is the mother of metaphor.

There is an hour of the afternoon when the plain is on the verge of saying something. It never says, or perhaps it says it infinitely, or perhaps we do not understand it, or we understand it and it is untranslatable as music.

The tango is a direct expression of something that poets have often tried to state in words: the belief that a fight may be a celebration.

Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.

From my weakness, I drew strength that never left me.

Besides, rereading, not reading, is what counts.