The best poet is the man who delivers our daily bread: the local baker.

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.

Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.

I am everybody and every time, I always call myself by your name.

I'm not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.

so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.

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.