So the freshness lives on in a lemon, in the sweet-smelling house of the rind, the proportions, arcane and acerb.

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.

Love is the mystery of water and a star.

sometimes i get up at dawn, and even my soul is wet.

To feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know ... widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.

I had no more alphabet than the journeying of the swallows, the pure and tiny water of the small, fiery bird that dances rising from the pollen.

I've come within range of hate. Terrifying, its tremors, its dizzying obsessions. Hate's like a swordfish invisible in the water, knifing suddenly into sight with blood on its blade- clear water misleads you.