You Can't Find The Soul With A

If You Knew All The Dreams I've Dreamed!

Once One Has Kissed A Cadaver's Forehead, There Always Remains Something Of It On The Lips, An Infinite Bitterness, An Aftertasteof Nothingness That Nothing Can Erase.

The True Poet For Me Is A Priest. As Soon As He Dons The Cassock, He Must Leave His Family.

It Is Always Sad To Leave A Place To Which One Knows One Will Never Return.

Writing Is A Dog's Life, But The Only Life Worth Living.