For in the end, the irreality function functions as well in the face of man as in the face of the cosmos. What would we know of others if we did not imagine things?

Irony gives us, at little expense, the impression that we are experienced psychologists.

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

True poetry is a function of awakening. It awakens us, but it must retain the memory of previous dreams.

Actually, however, life begins less by reaching upward, than by turning upon itself. But what a marvelously insidious, subtle image of life a coiling vital principle would be! And how many dreams the leftward oriented shell, or one that did not conform to the rotation of its species, would inspire!

The past of the soul is so distant! The soul does not live on the edge of time. It finds its rest in the universe imagined by reverie.

We believe we can also show that words do not have exactly the same psychic "weight" depending on whether they belong to the language of reverie or to the language of daylight life-to rested language or language under surveillance-to the language of natural poetry or to the language hammered out by authoritarian prosodies.