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

In the house of poetry nothing endures that is not written with blood to be heard with blood.

Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.

You are like nobody since I love you.

Who do I belong to? How come I mortgaged my being till I don't belong to myself? How come I sold my blood? And who now owns my indecisions, my hands, my private pain, my pride?

I need the sea because it teaches me

We open the halves of a miracle, and a clotting of acids brims into the starry divisions: creation's original juices, irreducible, changeless, alive: so the freshness lives on