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.

And as we stray further from love, we multiply the words. Had we remained together we could have become a silence.

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

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

What are you going to do now? You'll collect loves like stamps. You've got doubles and no one will trade with you. And you've got damaged ones.

God has pity on kindergarten children

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.