To Define Is To Kill. To Suggest

I Have Made A Long Enough Descent Into The Void To Speak With Certainty. There Is Nothing But Beauty--and Beauty Has Only One Perfect Expression, Poetry. All The Rest Is A Lie.

A Throw Of The Dice Will Never Abolish Chance.

It Is The Job Of Poetry To Clean Up Our Word-clogged Reality By Creating Silences Around Things.

Everything In The World Exists In Order To End Up As A Book.

A Soul Trembling To Sit By A Hearth So Bright, To Exist Again, It’s Enough If I Borrow From Your Lips The Breath Of My Name You Murmur All Night.