The self says, I am; The heart says, I am less; The spirit says, you are Nothing.

What's important? That which is dug out of books, or out of the guts?

In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.

What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?

All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.

The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.

I wish I could find an event that meant as much as simple seeing.