Poetry is a religion without hope, but its martyrs guarantee the eternal truth of its dogma.
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!
I have seafoam in my veins, I understand the language of waves.
Compromise yourself. Obscure your own trail.
Art is a marriage of the conscious and the unconscious.
French people are Italian people in a bad mood.