You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

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

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.

When did the lemons learn the same creed as the sun?

The tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness.

with your name on my mouth and a kiss that never broke away from yours.

Never an illness, nor the absence of grandeur, no, nothing is able to kill the best in us, that kindness, dear sir, we are afflicted with: beautiful is the flower of man, his conduct, and every door opens on the beautiful truth and never hides treacherous whispers. I always gained something from making myself better, better than I am, better than I was, that most subtle citation: to recover some lost petal of the sadness I inherited: to search once more for the light that sings inside of me, the unwavering light.