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.

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?

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

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

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

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