Loving Means Getting Rid Of Names.

If We Are A Metaphor Of The Universe, The Human Couple Is The Metaphor Par Excellence, The Point Of Intersection Of All Forces And The Seed Of All Forms. The Couple Is Time Recaptured, The Return To The Time Before Time.

If Each Of My Words Were A Drop Of Water, You Would See Through Them And Glimpse What I Feel: Gratitude, Acknowledgement.

Eroticism Is First And Foremost A Thirst For Otherness. And The Supernatural Is The Supreme Otherness. This Is Perhaps The Most Noble Aim Of Poetry, To Attach Ourselves To The World Around Us, To Turn Desire Into Love, To Embrace, Finally What Always Evades Us, What Is Beyond, But What Is Always There – The Unspoken, The Spirit, The Soul.

It Is Always Difficult To Give Oneself Up; Few Persons Anywhere Ever Succeed In Doing So, And Even Fewer Transcend The Possessive Stage To Know Love For What It Actually Is: A Perpetual Discovery, And Immersion In The Waters Of Reality, An Unending Re-creation.

The Whole Motley Confusion Of Acts, Omissions, Regrets And Hopes Which Is The Life Of Each One Of Us Finds In Death, Not Meaning Or Explanation, But An End.