For what was it about books that once finished left the reader in a bit of a haze and made them reread the last few sentences in order to continue the ringing in their hearts a while longer, so as not to let the silence illumine the fact that reading, they had gained something — distance, a lesson, a companion, a new world — but now, after the last full stop, they had lost something palpable and felt a little emptier than before.

It is a dangerous thing to substitute reading or writing for living. Live first, then write.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn’t you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

Because at nightwhen others are sleeping, I drown myself in poetry.

Think not of the fragility of life, but of the power of books, when mere words have the ability to change our lives simply by being next to each other.

They took my booksbecause my message was love.They took my penbecause my words were love.Then they took my voicebecause my song was love.Soon they’ll take myselfso nothing remains.But they don’t know that when I'm gonemy love will stay.

Think not of the fragility of life, but of the power of books, when mere words can change our lives simply by being next to each other.

All kinds of people read poetry: revolutionaries, scholars, sentimentalists etc. But above all else, lovers read poetry. Why? Because we fell in love. And then we fell in love with love.

I began to write because of love. I wrote to understand what I felt and what I knew.