To Be The Equal Of Reality You

Poetry Is What Happens When An Anxiety Meets A Technique.

Does Not Everything Depend On Our Interpretation Of The Silence Around Us?

Every Man Is Made Of Clay And Diamond, And No Woman Can Nourish Both.

The Realisation Of One's Own Death Is The Point At Which One Becomes Adult.

After All The Work Of The Philosophers On His Soul And The Doctors On His Body, What Can We Really Say We Know About A Man? That He Is, When All Is Said And Done, Just A Passage For Liquids And Solids, A Pipe Of Flesh.