Existentialists are monumentally and monotonously serious; they don't like to joke.

It's just not easy to explain to someone else what you don't understand yourself.

I started earning a living as a poet rather early on.

There's simply too much fuss about myself.

Keep up the good work, if only for a while, if only for the twinkling of a tiny galaxy.

All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination. Even the richest, most surprising and wild imagination is not as rich, wild and surprising as reality. The task of the poet is to pick singular threads from this dense, colorful fabric.

You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.