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….

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

What you remember saves you..

From what we cannot hold the stars are made..

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'….

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 ….

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

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

Now all my teachers are dead except silence..

We are asleep with compasses in our hands..

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

We are the echo of the future..

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….

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

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

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….

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….

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 ….

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

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

Laughter was the shape the darkness took around the first appearance of the light..