How can we live without the unknown before us?
How did writing come to me? Like bird’s down on my windowpane, in winter. Just then there rose in the heart a struggle of firebrands, which has, still now, not ended.
A poet should leave traces of his passage, not proofs. Traces alone engender dreams.
Trust firmly in your luck, cling to your happiness, and dare to take risks.
What comes into the world to disturb nothing merits neither attention nor patience
Be gful to the man who cares nothing for your remorse. You are his equal.