The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses

Then you'll feel your cheek scratched... A little kiss, like a crazy spider, Will run round your neck... And you'll say to me : "Find it !" bending your head - And we'll take a long time to find that creature - Which travels a lot.

What an old maid I'm getting to be. lacking the courage to be in love with death!

Oh! If only we were naked now, and free to watch our protruding parts align; To whisper - both of us - in ecstasy!

There shall be poets! When woman's unmeasured bondage shall be broken, when she shall live for and through herself, man--hitherto detestable--having let her go, she, too, will be poet! Woman will find the unknown! Will her ideational worlds be different from ours? She will come upon strange, unfathomable, repellent, delightful things; we shall take them, we shall comprehend them.

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.

In the great glasshouses streaming with condensation, the children in mourning-dress beheld marvels.