Apparently, 'conspiracy stuff' is now shorthand for unspeakable truth.
Every poem that I write is, in a sense, trying to find adequate words for this unspeakable word, around which my entire life turns.
What can be said, lacks reality. Only what fails to make its way into words exists and counts.
Today we have discovered the word that could not be said. "I
Later - when things happened that they could never have imagined - she wrote him a letter that said: When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything
There are some things for which three words are three too many, and three thousand words that many words too less.
Language that tells us, through a more or less emotional reaction, something that can not be said.
Language can do what it can’t say.
Forms disappear, words remain, to signify the impossible.
I really believe that the past is beyond our grasp and what is essential about the past is something unspeakable.
We didn't say anything because there was such an awful lot to say, and no language to say it in.
We don't say nothing more. What else is there to say? Everything and nothing. You can't say everything, so you don't say nothing.
And the air was full of Thoughts and Things to Say. But at times like these, only the Small Things are ever said. Big Things lurk unsaid inside.
When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?
