“Your silence will never protect you,Indeed, Silence is the ultimate weapon of power, but It destroy us first..........”

“Silence is the ultimate weapon of power.”

“Success always hugs you in private,but failure slaps you in the public...”

“Living is no laughing matter:You must take it seriously.So much so and to such a degreethat, for example, your hands tiedbehind your back,your back to the wallor else in a laboratoryin your white coat and safety glasses,you can die for people –even for people whose faces you’venever seen,even though you know livingis the most real, most beautifulthing.I mean, you must take living soseriouslythat even at seventy, for example, you’llplant olive trees –and not for your children, either,but because, although you fear death youdon’t believe it,because living, I mean, weighs heavier.- "On Living”

“You Are My DrunkennessYou are my drunkenness... I did not sober up, as if I can do that; I don't want to anyway. I have a headache, my knees are full of scars I am in mud all around I struggle to walk towards your hesitant light.”

“MY WOMAN My woman came with me as far as Brest,she got off the train and stayed on the platform,she grew smaller and smaller,she became a kernel of wheat in the infinite blue,then all I could see were the tracks. Then she called out from Poland, but I couldn't answer,I couldn't ask, "Where are you, my rose, where are you?""Come," she said, but I couldn't reach her,the train was going like it would never stop,I was choking with grief. Then patches of snow were rotting on sandy earth,and suddenly I knew my woman was watching :"Did you forget me," she asked, "did you forget me?"Spring marched with muddy bare feet on the sky. Then stars lighted on the telegraph wires,darkness dashed the train like rain,my woman stood under the telegraph poles,her heart pounding as if she were in my arms,the poles kept disappearing, she didn't move,the train was going like it would never stop,I was choking with grief. Then suddenly I knew I'd been on that train for years- I'm still amazed at how or why I knew it -and always singing the same great song of hope,I'm forever leaving the cities and women I love,and carrying my losses like wounds opening inside me,I'm getting closer, closer to somewhere.”

“THE WEEPING WILLOWFlowing was the watershowing in its mirror the willow trees.The weeping willows in the water were washing their hair!Striking the willows with their sparkling, bare swordsthe red horsemen were running to where the sun sets!Suddenlylike a bird as if struck in the winga wounded horseman rolled down from his horse!He didn't shout,he did'nt call back those who go along,he just looked with brimming eyes at the shining horseshoes of departing riders!O what a pity! What a pity for him thatno more he shall lie on the foaming necks of galloping horses,no more he shall play his sword behind the white armies!The sounds of the horseshoes fades away slowly,the horsemen vanish at where the sun sets! Horsemen horsemen red horsemen,their horses winged with wind! Their horses winged with...Their horses winged...Their horses...Horse... Life has passed like the wind winged horsemen!The voice of the flowing water ceased.The shadows shadowed the colours wiped off.Black coverings came down over his blue eyes,the weeping willows hung down over his yellow hair!Weep not weeping willow weep not,in the mirror of the black water clasp not your hands! clasp not your hands! weep not!”