Anyone who's never experienced the pleasure of betrayal doesn't know what pleasure is.

Slowly but surly I want to strip her of every kind of happiness as to make a saint of her.

I leave you free to imagine any dialogue you please. Choose whatever may charm you. Have it, if you like, that they hear the voice of the blood, or that they fall in love at first sight... Conceive the wildest improbabilities. Have it that the depths of their beings are thrilled at accosting each other in slang. Tangle them suddenly in a swift embrace or a brotherly kiss. Do whatever you like.

Anyone who knows a strange fact shares in its singularity.

Poetry is the break (or rather the meeting at the breaking point) between the visible and the invisible.

It's a true image, born of a false spectacle.

In order to weep, I had descended to the realm of the dead themselves, to their secret chambers, led by the invisible but soft hands of birds down stairways which were folded up again as I advanced. I displayed my grief in the friendly fields of death, far from men: within myself.