Henceforth space by itself$$$ and time by itself$$$ are doomed to fade away into mere shadows$$$ and only a kind of union of the two will preserve an independent reality.

Wherever he goes$$$ whatever he does$$$ he will always see that word: murder -- immortally inscribed upon the pediment of that vast slaughterhouse -- humanity.

To whom do we tell what happened on the Earth$$$ for whom do we place everywhere huge Mirrors in the hope that they will be filled up and will stay so?

I am composed of contradictions$$$ which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy.

Language is the only homeland.

You can't stay in your corner of the forest$$$ waiting for others to come find you; you have to go to them sometimes.

Farewell happy fields$$$ where joy forever dwells.

Show them a stony heart and sink them with it

Because most people ain't people.

Never fight fair with a stranger$$$ boy. You'll never get out of the jungle that way.