We forget old stories, but those stories remain the same.
Man has reached the moon, but twenty centuries ago a poet knew the enchantments that would make the moon come down to earth.
God is a cloud from which rain fell.
Nothing is inanimate; what is the rest is our interpretation.
Words rich in meaning can be cheap in sound effects.
For a game, you don’t need a teacher.
I recreate myself; that is my only power.
This dwarf still observes the world from his own self-imposed height.
The way contemporary literature is emerging, soon we can expect “Item poetry” in novels.
I lose faith in mathematics, logical and rigid. What with those that even zero doesn’t accept?