In this horror of solitude, this need to lose his ego in exterior flesh, which man calls grandly the need for love.

From that moment onwards, our loathsome society rushed, like Narcissus, to contemplate its trivial image on a metallic plate. A form of lunacy, an extraordinary fanaticism took hold of these new sun-worshippers.

A precious liquid, a poison dearer than that of the Borgias - because it is made from our blood, our health, our sleep, and two-thirds of our love - we must be stingy with it.

You are sitting and smoking; you believe that you are sitting in your pipe, and that your pipe is smoking you; you are exhaling yourself in bluish clouds. You feel just fine in this position, and only one thing gives you worry or concern: how will you ever be able to get out of your pipe?

To handle a language skillfully is to practice a kind of evocative sorcery.

The will to work must dominate, for art is long and time is brief.

Multitude, solitude: equal and interchangeable terms for the active and prolific poet.