The poetic image is a sudden salience on the surface of the psyche

To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful.

Every corner in a house, every angle in a room, every inch of secluded space in which we like to hide, or withdraw into ourselves, is a symbol of solitude for the imagination; that is to say, it is the germ of a room, or of a house.

The reverie we intend to study is poetic reverie. This is a reverie which poetry puts on the right track, the track an expanding consciousness follows. This reverie is written, or, at least, promises to be written. It is already facing the great universe of the blank page. Then images begin to compose and fall into place.

The only possible proof of the existence of water, the most convincing and the most intimately true proof, is thirst.

In living off all the reflecting light furnished by poets, the I which dreams the reverie reveals itself not as poet but as poetizing I.

Dreaming by the river, I dedicated my imagination to water, to clear, green water, the water that makes the meadows green.