A system is nothing more than the subordination of all aspects of the universe to any one of such aspects.

As a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight.

Happy are the beloved and the lovers and those who can live without love.

I am not sure of anything, I know nothing . . . can you imagine that I don't even know the date of my own death?

I...have always known that my destiny was, above all, a literary destiny — that bad things and some good things would happen to me, but that, in the long run, all of it would be converted into words. Particularly the bad things, since happiness does not need to be transformed: happiness is its own end.

Poetry remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art.

Poetry springs from something deeper; it's beyond intelligence.