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?

There is poetry even in prose, in all the great prose which is not merely utilitarian or didactic: there exist poets who write in prose or at least in more or less apparent prose; millions of poets write verses which have no connection with poetry.

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

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

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

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

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.