Speech Is Our Second Possession, After The

We Are Guilty Of Many Errors And Many Faults, But Our Worst Crime Is Abandoning The Children, Neglecting The Fountain Of Life. Many Of The Things We Need Can Wait. The Child Cannot. Right Now Is The Time His Bones Are Being Formed, His Blood Is Being Made, And His Senses Are Being Developed. To Him We Cannot Answer 'tomorrow.' His Name Is 'today.'

For Me, Religiosity Is ... The Constant Remembrance Of The Presence Of The Soul.

In The Secret Of Night, My Prayer Climbs Like The Liana, My Prayer Is, And I Am Not. It Grows, And I Perish. I Have Only My Hard Breath, My Reason And My Madness. I Cling To The Vine Of My Prayer. I Tend It At The Root Of The Stalk Of Night.

I Write Poetry Because I Can’t Disobey The Impulse; It Would Be Like Blocking A Spring That Surges Up In My Throat. For A Long Time I’ve Been The Servant Of The Song That Comes, That Appears And Can’t Be Buried Away. How To Seal Myself Up Now?…it No Longer Matters To Me Who Receives What I Submit. What I Carry Out Is, In That Respect, Greater And Deeper Than I, I Am Merely The Channel.

My Grief And My Smile Begin In Your Face, My Son.