Conspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.

I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.

Of everything I have seen, it's you I want to go on seeing: of everything I've touched, it's your flesh I want to go on touching. I love your orange laughter. I am moved by the sight of you sleeping. What am I to do, love, loved one? I don't know how others love or how people loved in the past. I live, watching you, loving you. Being in love is my nature.

Everything is so alive, that I can be alive. Without moving I can see it all. In your life I see everything that lives.

To love is to tilt with the lightning, two bodies routed by a single honey's sweet.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

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