Poetry, in the entire course of its development, has always been trying to capture meanings and problems which are still obscure and dormant. Poetry tries to awaken them with a kiss, wherever they may be: in the air, in things, in human beings.

Talent--that is to say, the ability to see the world in a unique way--matures and grows in isolation.

The public, regardless of its social origin, likes, above all, that which is easily accessible.

The history of the creative progress of individual artists shows that, along with their spiritual growth and the increasing complexity of their inner life, their forms of expression become more complex.

The demand that poetry be immediately understandable to everyone is truly absurd.

The solitude of the poet is the uniqueness of his experience, and the particulaity of his sensitivity and imagination.

Environment grinds us, forces us to adjust, and--consciously or not--kills our most precious possession: that something which enables us to speak with ourselves and with God.