I love you as one loves certain dark things.

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain. I love you still among these cold things. Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival. I see myself forgotten like those old anchors. The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there. My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose. I love what I do not have. You are so far. My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights. But night comes and starts to sing to me.

I want to do with you what the spring does with the cherry trees.

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

Give me silence, water, hope Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.