You are walking in a desert.You hear a bird singing.As absurd as it may seem for a bird to be pending in the desert,you are obligated to make it a tree.That's poem

If anything needs love it is reality, for it is reality that lacks it the most - I doubt that it was ever loved.

All that we are and all that we've ever felt, words have felt it first.

Love grows by not giving to us. And if our passion for poetry lives on and persists, it is because poetry offers us only its bits of lint.

I've grown extremely tired of the face of the world.

Life's essential length is only a few pages long, as succinct as a line of verse and as brief as the title of a poem.

I write very rarely. Only, in fact, when the sheet of paper suffers an existential crisis and threatens, if I don't surrender to it, to bury me alive under its whiteness.

I don't aspire, but I would be very happy if one of my poems suddenly offered someone a shady rest stop, a breather in our interminable march under the murderous, scorching heat of the superfluous.

Poetry contains love and holds it in high esteem, even though love always humiliates it by using it merely as a soothing after-shave lotion.

What I try to do is to keep emotion on a tight leash; otherwise, it can never be transubstantiated into poetry.

Poetry relishes ripe fruit - but ripe is one thing and overripe quite another. That's something poetry doesn't like, so it couldn't care less if I were to fall overripe to the ground.

The world never leaves one in ignorance or in peace.

Quand le doigt montre le ciel, l’imbécile regarde le doigt. [When a finger is pointing up to the sky, only a fool looks at the finger.]

It's honest to admit you'll kill someone because you hate them.

One who roams the channels after dark, searching for buried treasure.

I want to be remembered for making great music and doing great things for people.

Watching myself still makes me uneasy - and when you're younger, you're even more unforgiving.

I grew up middle class, my best friends to this day are construction workers or military or whatever it is.

In this era, I-ways are as essential as Highways...We need both Information Ways and Highways.

Every rumor is believed against the unfortunate.

Fear not; calm will follow the storm, and perhaps soon.