Sitting over words Very late I have heard a kind of whispered sighing Not far Like a night wind in pines or like the sea in the dark The echo of ….

Obviously a garden is not the wilderness but an assembly of shapes, most of them living, that owes some share of its composition, it’s appearance, to….

I will take with me the emptiness of my hands. What you do not have you find everywhere.

Now all my teachers are dead except silence..

I think there's a kind of desperate hope built into poetry that one really wants, hopelessly, to save the world. One is trying to say everything that….

We are asleep with compasses in our hands..

I say to my breath once again, little breath come from in front of me, go away behind me, row me quietly now, as far as you can, for I am an abyss th….

We are the echo of the future..

Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color..

The story of each stone leads back to a mountain..

Any work of art makes one very simple demand on anyone who genuinely wants to get in touch with it. And that is to stop. You've got to stop what you'….

Poetry is a way of looking at the world for the first time..

I have with me all that I do not knowI have lost none of it..

What I really believe is the only hopeful relation between our life and the whole of life is one of reverence and respect and of feeling at one with ….

On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree.

I also think that life itself is both indifferent to us and the source of all of our joys and everything that we love. And it's necessary to accept t….

We are not born to survive. Only to live..

Your absence has gone through me.

I have been younger in October than in all the months of spring..

come back believer in shade believer in silence and elegance believer in ferns believer in patience believer in the rain.

I needed my mistakes in their order to get me here.