The dead are never far from us. They’re in our hearts and on our minds and in the end all that separates us from them is a single breath, one last puff of air.
死者离我们从不遥远。他们在我们心中，在我们脑海里，最终将我们与他们分隔开的不过是一口气息，最后一缕空气。
You can't let praise or criticism get to you. It's a weakness to get caught up in either one.
I’m a perfectionist. I’m pretty much detail-oriented.
The photograph is literally an emanation of the referent. From a real body, which was there, proceed radiations which ultimately touch me, who am here.
Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.