A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

What does autumn go on paying for with so much yellow money?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Love! Love until the night collapses!

You must know that I do not love and that I love you, because everything alive has its two sides; a word is one wing of silence, fire has its cold half. I love you in order to begin to love you, to start infinity again and never to stop loving you: that’s why I do not love you yet. I love you, and I do not love you, as if I held keys in my hand: to a future of joy- a wretched, muddled fate- My love has two lives, in order to love you. -Sonnet XLIV

In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.