Even a fool could see that one didn't need a war, nuclear or otherwise, to destroy oneself; the rising cost of weaponry could do that quite nicely.
Not only does God play dice with the world He does not let us see what He has rolled.
Every stink that fights the ventilator thinks it is Don Quixote.
If a man who can’t count finds a four leaf clover, is he lucky?
I see a poem as a multi-coloured strip behind peeling plaster, in separate, shining fragments.
There is only one positive role of the Nobel prize--it creates some common way to understand a writer. I cannot say, that I like this situation, but that's the way it goes. The books are being born and then walk around the world, just as children do.