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.

All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination.

Though I may deny poets their monopoly on inspiration, I still place them in a select group of Fortune's darlings.

Today when two people decide upon a thoughtless and precipitate abbreviation of the physical space between them, they think, at least at that moment, that they're mutually attracted and drawn together by an overwhelming force.

My choices are rejections, since there is no other way, but what I reject is more numerous, denser, more demanding than before. A little poem, a sigh, at the cost of indescribable losses.