When I Curse Fate, It's Not Me,

All Of Us Yearn For The Highest Wisdom, But We Have To Rely On Ourselves In The End.

Evil Grows And Bears Fruit, Which Is Understandable, Because It Has Logic And Probability On Its Side And Also, Of Course, Strength. The Resistance Of Tiny Kernels Of Good, To Which No One Grants The Power Of Causing Far-reaching Consequences, Is Entirely Mysterious, However. Such Seeming Nothingness Not Only Lasts But Contains Within Itself Enormous Energy Which Is Revealed Gradually.

When A Writer Is Born Into A Family, The Family Is Finished.

I Have Defined Poetry As A 'passionate Pursuit Of The Real.

Irony Is The Glory Of Slaves.