The runner stopped dead, lost his balance, froze in one of those violent attitudes in which the photographers petrify living reality.
The poet doesn't invent. He listens.
The speed of a runaway horse counts for nothing.
Look out! Be on your guard, because alone of all the arts, music moves all around you.
True realism consists in revealing the surprising things which habit keeps covered and prevents us from seeing.
Style is a simple way of saying complicated things.