The poetic image exists apart from causality.

Through imagination, thanks to the subtleties of the irreality function, we re-enter the world of confidence, the world of the confident being, which is the proper world for reverie.

The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows.

The characteristic of scientific progress is our knowing that we did not know.

Poetry is one of the destinies of speech... One would say that the poetic image, in its newness, opens a future to language.

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.

We are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.