If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred.

I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight orgies of young men, I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I spring from the pages into your arms-decease calls me forth.

The art of art... is simplicity.

Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems

O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is.