The greatest masterpiece in literature is only a dictionary out of order.

Celebrity: I picture myself as a marble bust with legs to run everywhere.

The public only takes up yesterday as a stick to beat today.

I only fear the death of others. For me, true death is that of the people I love

Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.

If a hermit lives in a state of ecstasy, his lack of comfort becomes the height of comfort. He must relinquish it.

My method is simple: not to bother about poetry. It must come of its own accord. Merely whispering its name drives it away.