The course of a river is almost always disapproved of by the source.

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.

How our old friend [Michelangelo] of the Sistine would have loved to photograph his workers, perched on the fragile planks. Dali was right to say Leonardo only worked from photographs.

Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!

Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.

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

Whatever the public blames you for, cultivate it; it is yourself.