Poetry Is A Dividend From

When A Writer Is Born Into A Family, The Family Is Finished.

Not That I Want To Be A God Or A Hero. Just To Change Into A Tree, Grow For Ages, Not Hurt Anyone.

Language Is The Only Homeland.

In A Room Where People Unanimously Maintain A Conspiracy Of Silence, One Word Of Truth Sounds Like A Pistol Shot.

He Returns Years Later, Has No Demands. He Wants Only One, Most Precious Thing: To See, Purely And Simply, Without Name, Without Expectations, Fears, Or Hopes, At The Edge Where There Is No I Or Not-i.