Once you've lived in France, you don't want to live anywhere else, including France.

Poetry is mostly hunches.

I write with experiences in mind, but I don't write about them, I write out of them.

I tried each thing, only some were immortal and free.

Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night.

The summer demands and takes away too much. /But night, the reserved, the reticent, gives more than it takes

Each servant stamps the reader with a look.