I hardly know what I'm going to write - an article, a story, a poem in free verse - or in some regular form. I only know that when I have the first sentence. And when the first sentence makes a kind of pattern, then I find out the kind of rhythm I'm looking for.

I don't think there's any essential difference, at least for me, between writing poetry and writing prose.

Music, feelings of happiness, mythology, faces worn by time, certain twilights and certain places, want to tell us something, or they told us something that we should not have missed, or they are about to tell us something; this imminence of a revelation that is not produced is, perhaps, the esthetic event.

I saw a sunset in Queretaro that seemed to reflect the color of a rose in Bengal.

The mathematical sciences wield their particular language made of digits and signs, no less subtle than any other.

My undertaking is not difficult, essentially. I should only have to be immortal to carry it out.

I don't think esthetic schools are important. What is important is the use that is made of them, or whatever the individual writer does.