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

A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.

Instead of looking for the dream in reverie, people should look for reverie in the dream. There are calm beaches in the midst of nightmares.

The reveries of two solitary souls prepare the sweetness of loving.

All the senses awaken and fall into harmony in poetic reverie. Poetic reverie listens to this polyphony of the senses, and the poetic consciousness must record it.

The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest.

When the image is new, the world is new.