The most dangerous aspect of present-day life is the dissolution of the feeling of individual responsibility. Mass solitude has done away with any difference between the internal and the external, between the intellectual and the physical.

It has often been observed that the repercussion of poetic language on prose language can be considered a decisive cut of a whip.

This proves that great lyric poetry can die, be reborn, die again, but will always remain one of the most outstanding creations of the human soul.

Narrative art, the novel, from Murasaki to Proust, has produced great works of poetry.

I have always knocked at the door of that wonderful and terrible enigma which is life.

The poet does not know - often he will never know - whom he really writes for.

Evidently the arts, all the visual arts, are becoming more democratic in the worst sense of the word.