And what I now say with one tongue, tomorrow will say with many

Don’t count the time lost, neither . . .

The droppings that fall from the arse of my imagination belong to you, if droppings of this sort are to your liking.

The other side of waiting is wanting.

To change your language you must change your life.

Without historical remembrance there would be no beauty.

There are only two kingdoms in nature: one enjoys life and the other is deprived of it.

Well, there's no guarantee of failure in life like happiness in high school.

In a way dreams exactly embody the concept of freedom. They free you of all constraints. I think God gave human beings this possibility to apologize for all the limitations he’s created for them.

If you are not writing poems about your family, you are not writing poetry.

Some dreams tell us what we wish to believe. Some dreams tell us what we fear. Some dreams are of what we know though we may not know we knew it. The rarest dream is the dream that tells us what we did not know.

Funk is the opposite of magic. Funk is about rules.

It's only by being shameless about risking the obvious that we happen into the vicinity of the transformative.

I want a literature that is not made from literature.

Even in my dreams I’m shocked
By the criminality that dreams permit.

The experience I am attempting to describe by one tentative approach after another is very precise and is immediately recognizable. But it exists at a level of perception and feeling which is probably preverbal—hence, very much, the difficulty of writing about it.

. . . rationality is no hedge against barbarity.

I assume the senses crave sources of maximum information

And history is how the secular world attends to the dead.

You know before you can love someone you gots to love yourself. I mean you gots to dig on yourself, know that you be bad. Badder than bad, in fact. In fact, you gotta really know what you're about.

The poem is ... an organism or temporal machine, that, from the very start, strains toward its end. A kind of eschatology occurs within the poem itself. For the more or less brief time the poem lasts, it has a specific and unmistakable temporality, it has its own time.

This book is like any other book. But I would be happy if it were only read by people whose souls are already formed.

Real storytellers don’t necessarily ask what story one wants to hear

Men have been so mad as to believe that God is pleased by harmony.
—Spinoza