The one that burned the hottest is the first to die.

However much you feed a wolf, it always looks to the forest. We are all wolves of the dense forest of Eternity.

Don't you know no one can escape the power of creatures reaching out with breath alone?

What shall I do, singer and first-born, in a world where the deepest black is grey, and inspiration is kept in a thermos? with all this immensity in a measured world?

My verses are my diary. My poetry is a poetry of proper names.

And soon all of us will sleep under the earth, we who never let each other sleep above it.

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