Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.

I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.

All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.

It's a well-known fact: in order to follow doctor's orders, you have to be healthy as a horse.

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

I'm one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.