I know what I have given you, I do not know what you have received.

In a full heart there is room for everything, and in an empty heart there is room for nothing.

I stop wanting what I am looking for, looking for it.

Night is a world lit by itself.

The shadows: some hide, others reveal.

One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.

They will say you are on the wrong road, if it is your own.

I would go to heaven, but I would take my hell; I would not go alone.

Situated in some nebulous distance I do what I do so that the universal balance of which I am a part may remain a balance.

A door opens to me. I go in and am faced with a hundred closed doors.

Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists.

With the world in a chaos of questions, family should be the answer.

the night of thought is the light of perception.

Fingers you, claws me, crossed hoping Dad sees it that way.

There's a reason why the form was originally silent

You seem to think that the only genuine existence evil can have is conscious existence - that no one is evil unless he admits it to himself. I disagree.

With empty hand no man can lure a hawk.

The fact that I am writing to you in English already falsifies what I wanted to tell you. My subject: how to explain to you that I don't belong to English though I belong nowhere else

All I've ever wanted was an honest week's pay for an honest day's work.

I've got to have something. I want to stop it all, the whole monumental grotesque joke, before it's too late. But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good.

...is the spirit of the people an infallible, a permanent reliance? ...the spirit of the times may alter, will alter. Our rulers will become corrupt, our people careless.