You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.

It is not so much light that falls over the world extended by your body its suffocating snow, as brightness, pouring itself out of you, as if you were burning inside. Under your skin the moon is alive.

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

Laughter is the language of the soul.

I want to do with you what the spring does with the cherry trees.

If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death Perhaps the world can teach us as when everything seems dead but later proves to be alive.

I'm not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.