As slippery as smooth grapes, words exploding in the light like dormant seeds waiting in the vaults of vocabulary, alive again, and giving life: once again the heart distills them.

The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you.

When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?

I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.

To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.

I love you as one loves certain dark things.

I am made of earth, and my song made of words.