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

Poetry is what happens when an anxiety meets a technique.

I am quite alone. I am neither happy nor unhappy; I lie suspended like a hair or a feather in the cloudy mixtures of memory.

Life is more complicated than we think, yet far simpler than anyone dares to imagine

There is no pain compared to that of loving a woman who makes her body accessible to one and yet who is incapable of delivering her true self -- because she does not know where to find it.

Everything really desirable has come about because of, or in spite of, wine!

For us artists there waits the joyous compromise through art with all that wounded or defeated us in daily life; in this way, not to evade destiny, as the ordinary people try to do, but to fulfil it in its true potential - the imagination.