The life of our city is rich in poetic and marvelous subjects. We are enveloped and steeped as though in an atmosphere of the marvelous; but we do not notice it.

Drowsing, they take the noble attitude of a great sphinx, who, in a desert land, sleeps always, dreaming dreams that have no end.

The form of a town changes more swiftly alas! Than the heart of a mortal.

There are moments of existence when time and space are more profound, and the awareness of existence is immensely heightened.

Music fathoms the sky.

I am a cemetery abhorred by the moon, In which long worms crawl like remorse.

I think I would be happy in that place I happen not to be, and this question of moving house is the subject of a perpetual dialogue I have with my soul.