For my part, if I consider poetry as an object, I maintain that it is born of the necessity of adding a vocal sound (speech) to the hammering of the first tribal music.

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

Against the dark background of this contemporary civilization of well-being, even the arts tend to mingle, to lose their identity.

Man cannot produce a single work without the assistance of the slow, assiduous, corrosive worm of thought.

However, poetry does not live solely in books or in school anthologies.

I am perhaps a late follower of Zoroaster and I believe that the foundation of life is built upon the struggle between the two opposing forces of Good and Evil.

The new man is born too old to tolerate the new world. The present conditions of life have not yet erased the traces of the past. We run too fast, but we still do not move enough. He looks but he does not contemplate, he sees but he does not think.