Trust firmly in your luck, cling to your happiness, and dare to take risks.
Why did I become a writer? A bird's feather on my windowpane in winter and all at once there arose in my heart a battle of embers never to subside again.
How did writing come to me? Like bird’s down on my windowpane, in winter. Just then there rose in the heart a struggle of firebrands, which has, still now, not ended.
What comes into the world to disturb nothing merits neither attention nor patience
A poet should leave traces of his passage, not proofs. Traces alone engender dreams.
Be gful to the man who cares nothing for your remorse. You are his equal.
Man is able to do what he is unable to imagine. His head trails a wake through the galaxy of the absurd.
Develop your legitimate strangeness.
How can we live without the unknown before us?
I believe in the magic and authority of words.
Each act is virgin, even the repeated ones.
Imagination consists in expelling from reality several incomplete persons, and then using the magic and subversive powers of desire to bring them back in the form of one entirely satisfying presence.
To be a poet is to have an appetite for a certain anxiety which, when tasted among the swirling sum of things existent or forfeit, causes, as the taste dies, joy.
What can be seductive about the eternal nothing is that the finest day is indifferently this one or any other like it.
For an inheritance to be really great, the hand of the defunct must not be seen.
With my teethI have seized lifeUpon the knife of my youth.With my lips today,With my lips alone...
A poem is the realization of love. . . .
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