The Poet Is A Liar Who Always

Poetry, Being Elegance Itself, Cannot Hope To Achieve Visibility... It Insists On Living Its Own Life.

Poets Don't Draw. They Unravel Their Handwriting And Then Tie It Up Again, But Differently.

One Of The Characteristics Of The Dream Is That Nothing Surprises Us In It. With No Regret, We Agree To Live In It With Strangers, Completely Cut Off From Our Habits And Friends.

What The Public Criticizes In You, Cultivate. It Is You.

All Spiritual Journeys Are Martyrdoms