Develop your legitimate strangeness.

To be a poet is to have an appetite for a certain anxiety which, when tasted among the swirling sum of things existent or forfeit, causes, as the taste dies, joy.

Man is able to do what he is unable to imagine. His head trails a wake through the galaxy of the absurd.

For an inheritance to be really great, the hand of the defunct must not be seen.

Each act is virgin, even the repeated ones.

How did writing come to me? Like bird’s down on my windowpane, in winter. Just then there rose in the heart a struggle of firebrands, which has, still now, not ended.

Imagination consists in expelling from reality several incomplete persons, and then using the magic and subversive powers of desire to bring them back in the form of one entirely satisfying presence.