A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose..

A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belie….

Each arrow you shoot off carries its own target into the decidedly secret tangle.

rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed conviction there ought to be another way of saying this..

We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.'.

Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!.

Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss..

no one bears witness for the witness.

The two heart-grey puddles: two mouthsfull of silence..

Spring: trees flying up to their birds.

Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I s….

German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. It distrusts "beauty." ….

With wine and being lost, with less and less of both: I rode through the snow, do you read me I rode God far--I rode God near, he sang, it was our la….

The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosophers Stone..

who is invisible enough to see you.

There's nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even he is a Jew and the language of his poems is German..

They've healed me to pieces..

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown..

Poetry is a sort of homecoming..

Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won..

Death is a master from Germany..