I Want To Be A Poet, From

My Tongue Is Pierced With Glass.

But Hurry, Let's Entwine Ourselves As One, Our Mouth Broken, Our Soul Bitten By Love, So Time Discovers Us Safely Destroyed.

The Terrible Thing Is That The Crowd That Fills The Street Believes That The World Will Always Be The Same And That It Is Their Duty To Keep That Huge Machine Running, Day And Night, Forever. This Is What Comes Of A Protestant Morality, That I, As A (thank God) Typical Spaniard, Found Unnerving.

Death, Vicious Death, Leave A Green Branch For Love.

At The Heart Of All Great Art Is An Essential Melancholy.