Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.

Through all of youth I was looking for you without knowing what I was looking for

I needed my mistakes in their order to get me here

I had hardly begun to read I asked how can you ever be sure that what you write is really any good at all and he said you can't you can't you can never be sure you die without knowing whether anything you wrote was any good if you have to be sure don't write

We are the echo of the future.

The story of each stone leads back to a mountain.

After an age of leaves and feathers someone dead thought of the mountain as money and cut the trees that were here and the wind and the rain at night. It is hard to say it.