The Silence Of Snow, Thought The Man

When Two People Love Each Other As We Do, No One Can Come Between Them, No One," I Said, Amazed At The Words I Was Uttering Without Preparation. "lovers Like Us, Because They Know That Nothing Can Destroy Their Love, Even On The Worst Days, Even When They Are Heedlessly Hurting Each Other In The Cruelest , Most Deceitful Ways, Still Carry In Their Hearts A Consolation That Never Abandons Them." (p.191)

We're Not Stupid! We're Just Poor! And We Have A Right To Insist On This Distinction

What Was Venerated As Style Was Nothing More Than An Imperfection Or Flaw That Revealed The Guilty Hand.

There's Been Quite A Clear Upswing In Nationalist Sentiments. Everyone Is Talking About It, In Turkey As Well.

I Think A Lot About The Poems I Wasn't Able To Write...i Masturbrated...solitude Is Essentially A Matter Of Pride; You Bury Yourself In Your Own Scent. The Issue Is The Same For All Real Poets. If You've Been Happy For Too Long, You Become Banal. By The Same Token, If You've Been Unhappy For A Long Time, You Lose Your Poetic Power...happiness And Poverty Can Only Coexist For The Briefest Time. Afterword Either Happiness Coarsens The Poet Or The Poem Is So True It Destroys His Happiness.