Do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory.
Do not be a magician – be magic!
Deprivation is the mother of poetry.
Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.
As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder.
A woman watches her body uneasily, as though it were an unreliable ally in the battle for love.