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

To be under occupation, to be under siege, is not a good inspiration for poetry.

Life defined only as the opposite of death is not life.

Have I had two roads, I would have chosen their third.

My love, I fear the silence of your hands.

The days have taught you not to trust happiness because it hurts when it deceives.

The poem is in my hands, and can run stories through her hands.