Antonio Porchia (November 13, 1885 – November 9, 1968) was an Argentinian poet. (wikipedia)
When I am asleep I dream what I dream when I am awake. It's a continuous dream.
He who holds me by a thread is not strong; the thread is strong.
You know so much about me and yet you don't understand me. To know is not to understand. We could know everything and still not understand anything.
Some things become such a part of us that we forget them.
He who does not know how to believe, should not know.
Everything is a little bit of darkness, even the light.
All the suns labor to kindle your flame and a microbe puts it out.
Injury, when it is slight, upsets me; when it is strong it calms me.
Yes, I will go. I would rather grieve over your absence than over you.
Everything had been stripped of deceptions, that time. And that time I was afraid of everything.