The wolf howled under the leaves And spit out the prettiest feathers Of his meal of fowl: Like him I consume myself.

I don't believe in marriage. I believe in a commitment that you make in your heart. There's no paper that will make you stay.

I'm not one of those women who thinks beauty is a curse.

You should be smart enough to know that you don't know everything. But you have to believe in yourself. I certainly do.

I am a better person when I let myself have the time for romance and for love.

Family is becoming more and more important to me.

Is it in these bottomless nights that you sleep in exile?

No one's serious at seventeen.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned, isn't he?

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.

I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.

The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.

I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.

The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.

Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?

I shed more tears than God could ever have required.

You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.