I do not go in search of poetry. I wait for poetry to visit me.

Mass communication, radio, and especially television, have attempted, not without success, to annihilate every possibility of solitude and reflection.

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

Holidays - Have no pity.

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

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

I have been judged to be a pessimist but what abyss of ignorance and low egoism is not hidden in one who thinks that Man is the god of himself and that his future can only be triumphant?