True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.

It is wrong to say: I think. One ought to say: I am thought. I is someone else.

The poet, therefore, is truly the thief of fire. He is responsible for humanity, for animals even; he will have to make sure his visions can be smelled, fondled, listened to; if what he brings back from beyond has form, he gives it form; if it has none, he gives it none. A language must be found…of the soul, for the soul and will include everything: perfumes, sounds colors, thought grappling with thought

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea

Faith assuages, guides, restores.

Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.

Hay que ser absolutamente Moderno