The steward, according to custom, had stopped all the clocks. This, in the language of Narouz, said "Your stay with us is so brief, let us not be reminded of the flight of the hours."

Poetry is what happens when an anxiety meets a technique.

The realisation of one's own death is the point at which one becomes adult.

I have done so many things in my life," she said to the mirror. "Evil things, perhaps. But never unattentively, never wastefully...was I wrong?

But I love to feel events overlapping each other, crawling over one another like wet crabs in a basket

Truth is a woman. That is why it is enigmatic.

Every man is made of clay and diamond, and no woman can nourish both.