The American mirror, said the voice, the sad American mirror of wealth and poverty and constant useless metamorphosis, the mirror that sails and whose sails are pain.

Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.

If life is misery, why do we endure it?

They could read him, they could study him, they could pick him apart, but they couldn't laugh or be sad with him.

If I were to say what I really think I would be arrested or shut away in a lunatic asylum. Come on, I am sure that it would be the same for everyone.

The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children, in other words we never stop clinging to life because we are life.

The world is alive and no living thing has any remedy. That is our fortune.