We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like?

Such is the role of poetry. It unveils, in the strict sense of the word. It lays bare, under a light which shakes off torpor, the surprising things which surround us and which our senses record mechanically.

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.

It is excruciating to be an unbeliever with a spirit that is deeply religious.

The composer opens the cage door for arithmetic, the draftsman gives geometry its freedom.

The artist must know how far to go too far.

History is a combination of reality and lies. The reality of History becomes a lie. The unreality of the fable becomes the truth.