“The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth's dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart.”
“(...) the translator of prose is the slave of the author and the translator of poetry is his rival.”
“He drove his mind into the abyss where poetry is written.”
“He was just head over ears in love, with a young woman as near as his hand and as remote as a star, and for the moment it was enough to be where she was.”
“Nobody reads poetry anymoreSo who the hell are youI see bent over this book?”
“All the tequila in the world couldn't get her out of his mind and he knew it. She was in his head and in his heart to stay.”