Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

I've had the good fortune to read a lot of great American writers in translation, and my absolute beloved, for me one of the greatest writers ever, is Mark Twain. Yes, yes, yes. And Whitman, from whom the whole of 20th-century poetry sprung up. Whitman was the origin of things, someone with a completely different outlook. But I think that he's the father of the new wave in the world's poetry which to this very day is hitting the shore.

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

The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.

Out of every hundred people, those who always know better: fifty-two.

Whatever inspiration is, it's born from a continuous "I don't know.

Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.