The spirit of creation is the spirit of contradiction. It is the breakthrough of appearances toward an unknown reality.

Elegance ceases to exist when it is noticed.

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

The poet, by composing poems, uses a language that is neither dead nor living, that few people speak, and few people understand We are the servants of an unknown force that lives within us, manipulates us, and dictates this language to us.

Be a constant outrage to modesty There is nothing to fear: modesty is exercised only among the blind.

The runner stopped dead, lost his balance, froze in one of those violent attitudes in which the photographers petrify living reality.

I have lost my seven best friends, which is to say God has had mercy on me seven times without realizing it. He lent a friendship, took it from me, sent me another.