But when I call for a hero, out comes my lazy old self; so I never know who I am, nor how many I am or will be. I'd love to be able to touch a bell and summon the real me, because if I really need myself, I mustn't disappear.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

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

Donde termina el arco iris, en tu alma o en el horizonte? Where does the rainbow end, in your soul or on the horizon?

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.

For now I ask no more Than the justice of eating.