Women talk about love and silent about lovers, men - on the contrary: Speaking of mistresses, but are silent about love.

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

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

Meanings are translatable. Words are untranslatable… More briefly – a word is translatable, its sound is not.

Women talk about love and silent about lovers, men - on the contrary: Speaking of mistresses, but are silent about love.

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 is this gypsy passion for separation, this readiness to rush off when we've just met? My head rests in my hands as I realize, looking into the night that no one turning over our letters has yet understood how completely and how deeply faithless we are, which is to say: how true we are to ourselves.