When Writing Poetry, It Is Not That

When A Man Mourns For Someone Who Has Played Him False, It Is Not For Love Of Her, But For His Own Humiliation At Not Having Deserved Her Trust.

What Is To Come Will Emerge Only After Long Suffering, Long Silence.

One Must Look For One Thing Only, To Find Many.

Perfect Behavior Is Born Of Complete Indifference. Perhaps This Is Why We Always Love Madly Someone Who Treats Us With Indifference.

When We Read, We Are Not Looking For New Ideas, But To See Our Own Thoughts Given The Seal Of Confirmation On The Printed Page. The Words That Strike Us Are Those That Awake An Echo In A Zone We Have Already Made Our Own—the Place Where We Live—and The Vibration Enables Us To Find Fresh Starting Points Within Ourselves