“How did writing come to me? Like bird’s down on my windowpane, in winter. Just then there rose in the heart a struggle of firebrands, which has, still now, not ended.”

“There is only the one like me, the companion man or woman, who can wake me from my torpor, set off the poetry, hurl me against the limits of the old desert for me to triumph over it. No other. Neither sky nor privileged earth, now things which set you to trembling. Torch, I only waltz with that one.”

“The poet advises: 'Read me. Read me again.'He does not always come away unscathed fromhis page, but like the poor, he knows how to make use of an olive's eternity.”

“Desire, desire which knows, we draw no advantage from our shadows except from some veritable sovereignties accompanied by invisible flames, invisible chains, which, coming to light, step after step, cause us to shine.”

“In my land we don't question someone who has been touched deeply.There is no malign shadow over capsized boats.”

“How can we live without the unknown before us?”

“With my teethI have seized lifeUpon the knife of my youth.With my lips today,With my lips alone...”