Quotes About Reflection

I love you so, you are so much yourself! He is so afraid of his soul: no "I" now but she. She is now within me. And no "she" now but only my fragile "I" At the end of this song, how much I fear that my dream may not see its dream in her.

I leave the other side of my life where it wants to stay, and follow the remainder of my life in search of the other side of it.

Perhaps death is a metaphor to remind us of a secret of life we failed to notice.

May poetry and God's name have mercy on us!

And I say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.

There is no name for what life should be, except what you did and what you do to my soul.

Coffee should not be drunk in a hurry. It is the sister of time, and should be sipped slowly, slowly. Coffee is the sound of taste, a sound for the aroma. It is a meditation and a plunge into memories and the soul.

Are we what we do with time, or are we what time does with us?

I used to invent love when necessary. When I walked alone on the riverbank. Or whenever the level of salt would rise in my body, I would invent the river.

And we have the night ahead of us to stroll in lilac-scented gardens. Everything there is here. It is all ours. You are mine, I am yours and the shadow, your shadow, laughs like an orange. The dream did its job and, like a postman, hurried on to someone else. So we have to be worthy, this evening, of ourselves, and of a river that runs along beside us, and that we flow into as it flows into us.

In Damascus: poems become diaphanous They're neither sensual nor intellectual they are what echo says to echo . . .

For me it is essential, essential for the poet to have a new toast, new songs.

So which of your Lord's favors do you two deny? You and I are absent, you and I are present and absent. So which of your Lord's favors do you two deny?

Where can I write my latest account of the body's incarnation? It's the end of what was bound to end! Where is that which ends? Where can I free myself of the homeland in my body?

Dort immer noch Abstand wahren zu wollen, wo es nicht mehr nötig wäre, gehört zu den Folgeerscheinungen von Sehnsucht. ??????? ????? ?????? ?? ?????...????? ?? ??? ?????? ?? ??????

All roads lead to you, even those I took to forget you.

Later, we'll look up what was recorded in our history about yours in faraway lands. Then we'll ask ourselves, "Was Andalusia here or there? On earth, or only in poems?

Where is my second road to the staircase of expanse? Where is futility? Where is the road to the road? And where are we, the marching on the footpath of the present tense, where are we? Our talk a predicate and a subject before the sea, and the elusive foam of speech the dots on the letters, wishing for the present tense a foothold on the pavement …

Everything around me looks like me and I look like nothing here

Get rid of my tomorrow. Return my yesterday and leave us alone together. After you nothing leaves and nothing returns.

From afar, the poems come. I resemble you, yet I do not become you. I become you, yet I do not resemble you.

Peace to the hint of sadness in your eyes.

Take me back to where I was before I met you, then leave

There is no tomorrow in This desert except what we saw yesterday