The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.

I am the truth, since I am part of what is real, but neither more nor less than those around me.

After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption.

The yellow glistens. It glistens with various yellows, Citrons, oranges and greens Flowering over the skin.

Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.

Union of the weakest develops strength not wisdom. Can all men, together, avenge one of the leaves that have fallen in autumn? But the wise man avenges by building his city in snow.

I was myself the compass of that sea: I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw Or heard or felt came not but from myself; And there I found myself more truly and more strange.