I study nature so as not to do foolish things.

People, the people we really love, where did they come from? What did we do to deserve them?

It is the first experience you ever had of reading a decent poem: 'Oh, somebody else is lonely, too!

Polar fleece is a plush, spongy, totally artificial material that weighs nothing and conveys no quality of warmth or coolness; in fact, you can wear it in the most bitter weather or in the hottest heat. Polar fleece looks neither flimsy and light nor hearty and warm. It has no historical, cultural, or physical association with a place, a season, a society, or any living thing. It is the first existential fabric - eminentaly useful, meaningless, dissociated and weird.

Words have a love for each other, a desire that culminates in poetry.

Something unpronounceable followed by a long silence points out my life is becoming a landscape.

Every creative act is an act of hypocrisy and violence. You may have to think about it for a while, but I am sure you can discover your own.