Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.

I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.

I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.

Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.

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

so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.