Who sleeps at night? No one is sleeping.
 In the cradle a child is screaming.
 An old man sits over his death, and anyone
 young enough talks to his love, breathes 
into her lips, looks into her eyes.

In this most Christian of worlds all poets are Jews.

My desk, most loyal friend thank you. You've been with me on every road I've taken. My scar and my protection.

An amazing observation: it is precisely for feelings that one needs time, not for thought. ... Feelings, obviously, are more demanding than thought.

For the spell is older than experience. For the tale is older than the record.

How quiet the writing, how noisy the printing.

What is the main thing in love? to know and to hide. To know about the one you love and to hide that you love. At times the hiding (shame) overpowers the knowing (passion). The passion for the hidden - the passion for the revealed.