On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.

Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.

Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?

It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

Under your skin the moon is alive.

Laughter is the language of the soul.

The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading.