Poorly prepared for the dignity of life, I barely keep up with the pace of the action imposed. Reality demands.
And whatever I do will become forever what I've done.
Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?
No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with precisely the same kisses.
Poetic talent doesn't operate in a vacuum. There is a spirit of Polish poetry.
Loveless work, boring work, work valued only because others haven't got even that much, however loveless and boring - this is one of the harshest human miseries.