Here (Jerusalem), tears do not weaken the eyes, they only polish and shine the hardness of faces like stone.

Tonight I think again of many days that are sacrificed for one night of love. Of the waste and the fruit of the waste, of plenty and of fire. And how painlessly-time.

I think the end is endless. It's either a big black hole or a big white light or both together. But it's totally meaningless, because even if someone would explain it, I wouldn't understand it.

I’ve never been in those places where I’ve never been and never will be, I have no share in the infinity of light-years and dark-years, but the darkness is mine, and the light, and my time is my own.

From the place where we are right, flowers will not grow in the spring.

The phrase I like to use to describe my sense of time-a play on comparative literature - is comparative time.

My poems are political in the deeper sense of the word. Political means to live in your time, to be a man of your time.