As the rain falls so does your love bathe every open object of the world
Shoes twisted into incredible lilies.
[History is] a tyranny over the souls of the dead - and so the imagination of the living.
The perfect type of the man of action is the suicide.
A poem is a small machine made of words. . .Its movement is intrinsic, undulant, a physical more than a literary character.
That which is possible is inevitable.