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.

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

So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us.

The words of the world want to make sentences.

A house that has been experienced is not an inert box. Inhabited space transcends geometrical space.

Daydream transports the dreamer outside the immediate world to a world that bears the mark of infinity.

Ideas are invented only as correctives to the past. Through repeated rectification of this kind one may hope to disengage an idea that is valid.