It is the greatest art of the devil to convince us he does not exist.
The world only goes round by misunderstanding.
The poet enjoys the incomparable privilege of being able to be himself and others, as he wishes.
Forest, I fear you! In my ruined heart your roaring wakens the same agony as in cathedrals when the organ moans and from the depths I hear that I am damned.
Through the Unknown, we'll find the New
When it meows, one scarcely hears it... It has not the need of words to speak the lengthiest phraseologies.