Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan

Everyone needs solitude, especially a person who is used to thinking about what she experiences. Solitude is very important in my work as a mode of inspiration, but isolation is not good in this respect. I am not writing poetry about isolation.

I'd have to be really quick to describe clouds - a split second's enough for them to start being something else.

Poorly prepared for the dignity of life, I barely keep up with the pace of the action imposed. Reality demands.

Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?

All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.

This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.