Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.

Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.

A nothing we were, are, shall remain, flowering: the nothing--, the no one's rose.

Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.

Poetry is a sort of homecoming.

The poem is lonely. It is lonely and en route. Its author stays with it. Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?

Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.

There's nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even he is a Jew and the language of his poems is German.

We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.'

German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. It distrusts "beauty." It tries to be truthful.

They've healed me to pieces.

all the parts of mei did not show youwere the onesi wanted you to notice.

In the brightest hour of my darkest day, I realized what is wrong with me"~Forever

He who does not attempt to make peace / When small discords arise, / Is like the bee's hive which leaks drops of honey / Soon, the whole hive collapses.

Meaning drives us from despair to wonder, from confusion to clarity, from hesitance to confidence. And the only place to find meaning is in the importance of small things.

The schools begin with what they call the elements, and where do they end?

In response to the question, 'How do you know when you're finished?' Pollock replied, 'How do you know when you're finished making love?

Let me read you some of my poetry. My poetry just takes me to another level.

The true America is the Middle West, and Columbus discovered nothing at all except another Europe.

...what is romance, but a mutual pact of delusion? When the pact ends , there's nothing left.