“The little boy was looking for his voice.(The king of the crickets had it.)In a drop of waterthe little boy was looking for his voice.I do not want it for speaking with;I will make a ring of itso that he may wear my silenceon his little fingerIn a drop of waterthe little boy was looking for his voice.(The captive voice, far away,put on a cricket's clothes.)- The Little Mute BoyTranslated by William S. Merwin”

“The artist, and particularly the poet, is always an anarchist in the best sense of the word. He must heed only the call that arises within him from three strong voices: the voice of death, with all its foreboding, the voice of love and the voice of art.”

“Here I want to see those men of hard voice. Those that break horses and dominate rivers; those men of sonorous skeleton who sing with a mouth full of sun and flint.”

“At five in the afternoon. It was exactly five in the afternoon. A boy brought the white sheet at five in the afternoon. A frail of lime ready prepared at five in the afternoon. The rest was death, and death alone”

“Angel and Muse approach from without; the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod learned of them).  Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.”

“I put my headout of my window and seehow much the wind’s knifewants to slice it off.On this unseenguillotine, I’ve placedthe eyeless headof all my desires.”

“In the green morningI wanted to be a heart.A heart. And in the ripe eveningI wanted to be a nightingale.A nightingale. (Soul,turn orange-colored.Soul,turn the color of love.) In the vivid morningI wanted to be myself.A heart. And at the evening's endI wanted to be my voice.A nightingale. Soul,turn orange-colored.Soul,turn the color of love.- Ditty of First Desire”