Loving is a journey with water and with stars, with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour: loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.

He who has nothing—it has been said many times—has nothing to lose but his chains.

This means that we have barely disembarked into life, that we've only just now been born, let's not fill our mouths with so many uncertain names, with so many sad labels, with so many pompous letters, with so much yours and mine, with so much signing of papers. I intend to confuse things, to unite them, make them new-born intermingle them, undress them, until the light of the world has the unity of the ocean, a generous wholeness, a fragrance alive and crackling.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines...Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.

When I sleep every night, what am I called or not called? And when I wake, who am I if I was not I while I slept?

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness