“Everything makes love with silence.They promised me a silencelike fire, a house of silence.Suddenly the temple is a circusthe light a drum.”

“Melancholia is, I believe, a musical problem: a dissonance, a change in rhythm. While on the outside everything happens with the vertiginous rhythm of a cataract, on the inside is the exhausted adagio of drops of water falling from time to tired time. For this reason the outside, seen from the melancholic inside, appears absurd and unreal, and constitutes ‘the farce we all must play’. But for an instant – because of a wild music, or a drug, or the sexual act carried to its climax – the very slow rhythm of the melancholic soul does not only rise to that of the outside world: it overtakes it with an ineffably blissful exorbitance, and the soul then thrills animated by delirious new energies”

“Como quien no quiere la cosa. Ninguna cosa. Boca cosida. Párpados cosidos. Me olvidé. Adentro el viento. Todo cerrado y el viento adentro.”

“Sé, de una manera visionaria, que moriré de poesía. Esto no lo comprendo perfectamente, es vago, es lejano, pero lo sé y lo aseguro.”

“escribes poemasporque necesitasun lugaren donde sea lo que no es”

“Esta manía de saberme ángel,sin edad,sin muerte en qué vivirme,sin piedad por mi nombreni por mis huesos que lloran vagando.”

“Nada más peligroso, cuando se necesita ayuda, que recibir ayuda.”