During the long illness and pain, spiders have covered his face with webs, his body below the waist has faded like a shadow, a bush has grown above h… - Sakutarō Hagiwara

Poetry is neither a mystery nor a symbol nor a demon. Poetry is nothing more than a lonely consolation for the owner of a sickly soul and a man of solitude.

Behold all sins have been inscribed,
yet not all are mine,
verily manifest to me are
only phantoms of blue flames without shadows,
only the ghosts of pathos that fade off over the snow,
ah painful confession on such a day what shall I make of them,
all are but phantoms of blue flames.

Poetry is the intellect's product of one second. A certain type of sentiment that one ordinarily has touches something like electricity and for the first time discovers a rhythm. This electricity is, for the poet, a miracle. Poetry is not something anticipated and made.