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.

Behind all this, some great happiness is hiding.

The soul inside me is the last foreign language I'm learning.

I wanted to be calm, like a mound with all its cities destroyed, and tranquil, like a full cemetery.

It was not an adventure; it was my life.

And I said to myself: That's true, hope needs to be like barbed wire to keep out despair, hope must be a mine field.

There are two languages: one as things seem to us and the other of knowledge.