Images, memories, fragmentary shapes and forms all those sensations, visions, half-thoughts that appear and disappear in the wink of an eye, as one s….

Beyond happiness or unhappiness, though it is both things, love is intensity; it does not give us eternity but life, that second in which the doors o….

What characterizes a poem is its necessary dependence on words as much as its struggle to transcend them..

What is art? A violet. Is that all? An artistic style is a living entity, a continuous process of invention. It can never be imposed from without; bo….

Art is an invention of aesthetics, which in turn is an invention of philosophers... What we call art is a game..

Because two bodies, naked and entwined, leap over time, they are invulnerable, nothing can touch them, they return to the source. There is no you, no….

Humankind is never what he is but the self he seeks..

The ideal of a single civilization for everyone, implicit in the cult of progress and technique, impoverishes and mutilates us.

Love is not a desire for beauty; it is a yearning for completion..

Self-discovery is above all the realization that we are alone: it is the opening of an impalpable, transparent wall-that of our consciousness-between….

Solitude is the profoundest fact.

No one behind, no one ahead. The path the ancients cleared has closed. And the other path, everyone's path, easy and wide, goes nowhere. I am alone a….

Without democracy freedom is a chimera.

The North American system only wants to consider the positive aspects of reality. Men and women are subjected from childhood to an inexorable process….

Poetry, in the past, was the center of our society, but with modernity it has retreated to the outskirts. I think the exile of poetry is also the exi….

Ruy-Sanchez's works of fiction are always amazing: adventure, poetry and intelligence in a new geometry of words... His writing has nerve and agility….

Watching I watch myself, what I see is my creation as though entering through my eyes perception is conception into an eye more crystal clear ….

I sat at the foot of a huge tree, a statue of the night, and tried to make an inventory of all I had seen, heard, smelled, and felt: dizziness, horro….

Art is what remains of religion: the dance above the yawning abyss..

When a society decays, it is language that is first to become gangrenous. As a result, social criticism begins with grammar and the re-establishing o….

Poetry is not truth, it is the resurrection of presences..