Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.

Do not take up cause against the inaccuracies printed about you. They are your protection.

Art is not a pastime but a priesthood.

I feel myself inhabited by a force or being -- very little known to me. It gives the orders; I follow.

Poets don't draw. They unravel their handwriting and then tie it up again, but differently.

The speed of a runaway horse counts for nothing.

Continue reading Proust. His magnificent intelligence is particularly fond of describing stupidity. Which is ultimately exhausting.