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

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

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.

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

Wings are freedom only when they are wide open in flight. On one's back they are a heavy weight.

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