Poetry is the alchemy which teaches us to convert ordinary materials into gold.

How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.

If what Proust says is true, that happiness is the absence of fever, then I will never know happiness. For I am possessed by a fever for knowledge, experience, and creation.

With her eyes alone she could give this response, this absolutely erotic response, as if febrile waves were trembling there, pools of madness... something devouring that could lick a man all over like a flame, annihilate him, with a pleasure never known before.

the cynic is a coward. He foresees all barrenness so that barrenness can never surprise him.

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.

I don't hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.