One must live to build one's house, and not build one's house to live in.

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 reveries of two solitary souls prepare the sweetness of loving.

The blank page gives us the right to dream.

One doesn't read poetry while thinking of other things.

To verify images kills them, and it is always more enriching to imagine than to experience.

There are reveries so deep, reveries which help us descend so deeply within ourselves that they rid us of our history. They liberate us from our name. These solitudes of today return us to the original solitudes.