Voyages are accomplished inwardly.

If the poet can no longer speak for society, but only for himself, then we are at the last ditch.

The practice of any art demands more than 'mere savoir faire'. One must not only be in love with what one does, one must also know how to make love. In love self is obliterated. Only the beloved counts.

And what is the potential man, after all? Is he not the sum of all that is human? Divine, in other words?

We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.

I had no more need of God than He had of me, and if there were one, I often said to myself, I would meet Him calmly and spit in His face.

What is an artist? He's a man who has antennae, who knows how to hook up to the currents which are in atmosphere, in the cosmos.