I Love Women Whose Hidden Desires Make

Exile Is More Than A Geographical Concept. You Can Be An Exile In Your Homeland, In Your Own House, In A Room.

One Day, I Will Be A Poet. Water Will Depend On My Visions.

Against Barbarity, Poetry Can Resist Only By Confirming Its Attachment To Human Fragility Like A Blade Of Grass Growing On A Wall While Armies March By.

I Want To Find A Language That Transforms Language Itself Into Steel For The Spirit--a Language To Use Against These Sparkling Insects, These Jets.

To Be Under Occupation, To Be Under Siege, Is Not A Good Inspiration For Poetry.