He has the manner of a giant with the look of a child, a lazy activeness, a mad wisdom, a solitude encompassing the world.

When we awake it is the animal, the plant, that thinks in us. Primitive thought without the least disguise. We see a terrible universe, because we see clearly. A little later, intelligence introduces its impeding contrivances. It brings the little toys which man invents in order to hide the void. It is then that we think we are seeing clearly. We attribute our uneasiness to the miasmas of the brain as it passes from dream to reality.

I succeeded in bewitching a fair number and in being intoxicated with my mistakes.

The job of the poet (a job which can't be learned) consists of placing those objects of the visible world which have become invisible due to the glue of habit, in an unusual position which strikes the soul and gives them a tragic force.

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

Appreciation of art is a moral erection, otherwise mere dilettantism.

A true poet does not bother to be poetical. Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.