The Secret Wish Of Poetry Is To

The World Is Beautiful But Not Sayable. That's Why We Need Art.

Inside My Empty Bottle I Was Constructing A Lighthouse While All Others Were Making Ships.

Poetry: Three Mismatched Shoes At The Entrance Of A Dark Alley.

A 'truth' Detached And Purified Of Pleasures Of Ordinary Life Is Not Worth A Damn In My View. Every Grand Theory And Noble Sentiment Ought To Be First Tested In The Kitchen-and Then In Bed, Of Course.

I Slept Little, Read A Lot, And Fell In Love Frequently.