If I told you the whole story it would never end...What's happened to me has happened to a thousand woman.

Besides black art, there is only automation and mechanization.

I was lucky enough to see with my own eyes the recent stock-market crash, where they lost several million dollars, a rabble of dead money that went sliding off into the sea.

While the poet wrestles with the horses on his brain and the sculptor wounds his eyes on the hard spark of alabaster, the dancer battles the air around her, air that threatens at any moment to destroy her harmony or to open huge open empty spaces where her rhythm will be annihilated.

The day we stop resisting our instincts, we'll have learned how to live.

What shall I say about poetry? What shall I say about those clouds, or about the sky? Look; look at them; look at it! And nothing more. Don't you understand anything about poetry? Leave that to the critics and the professors. For neither you, nor I, nor any poet knows what poetry is.

The two elements the traveler first captures in the big city are extra human architecture and furious rhythm. Geometry and anguish.