The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone.

Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!

Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.

German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. It distrusts "beauty." It tries to be truthful.

Illegibility of this world. All things twice over. The strong clocks justify the splitting hour, hoarsely. You , clamped into your deepest part, climb out of yourself for ever.

Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown.