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

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.

No one has ever stepped twice into the same river. But did anyone ever step twice into the same book?

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

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

I opened my veins. Unstoppably life spurts out with no remedy. Now I set out bowls and plates. Every bowl will be shallow. Every plate will be small. And overflowing their rims, into the black earth, to nourish the rushes unstoppably without cure, gushes poetry.

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