But they know about us, they know, the four corners, and the chairs nearby us. Discerning shadows also know, and even the table keeps quiet.

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there's no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

Get to know other worlds, if only for comparison.

Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

I cannot speak for more than an hour exclusively about poetry. At that point, life itself takes over again.

Even boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?