Love Is A Sacred Silence.

There Are Two Kind Of Men,' Said Ka, In A Didatic Voice. 'the First Kind Does Not Fall In Love Until He's Seen How The Girls Eats A Sandwich, How She Combs Her Hair, What Sort Of Nonsense She Cares About, Why She's Angry At Her Father, And What Sort Of Stories People Tell About Her. The Second Type Of Man -- And I Am In This Category -- Can Fall In Love With A Woman Only If He Knows Next To Nothing About Her.

People Only Tell Lies When There Is Something They Are Terribly Frightened Of Losing.

My Diary Has Its Own Kind Of Magic. It Gives Me The Feeling Of Having Accomplished Something. On Days When I Don't Have Time For This, I Feel Tortured.

I Think A Lot About The Poems I Wasn't Able To Write...i Masturbrated...solitude Is Essentially A Matter Of Pride; You Bury Yourself In Your Own Scent. The Issue Is The Same For All Real Poets. If You've Been Happy For Too Long, You Become Banal. By The Same Token, If You've Been Unhappy For A Long Time, You Lose Your Poetic Power...happiness And Poverty Can Only Coexist For The Briefest Time. Afterword Either Happiness Coarsens The Poet Or The Poem Is So True It Destroys His Happiness.

East And West Are Coming Together. Whether In Peace Or Anarchy - They Are Coming Together. There Needn't Be A Clash Between East And West, Between Islam And Europe.