Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by.

If the Olive Trees knew the hands that planted them, Their Oil would become Tears.

Nothing is harder on the soul, than the smell of dreams, while they're evaporating.

I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a single word: Home.

I want to find a language that transforms language itself into steel for the spirit--a language to use against these sparkling insects, these jets.

I am patient and am waiting for a profound revolution in the consciousness of the Israelis. The Arabs are ready to accept a strong Israel with nuclear arms - all it has to do is open the gates of its fortress and make peace.

History laughs at both the victim and the aggressor.