Beauty makes one lose one's head. Poetry is born of this decapitation
Poetry is a religion without hope. The poet exhausts himself in its service, knowing that, in the long run, a masterpiece is nothing but the performance of a trained dog on very shaky ground.
It is not I who become addicted, it is my body.
Art is science in the flesh.
The Louvre is a morgue; you go there to identify your friends.
One sits down first; one thinks afterwards.