The summit sings what is being spoken in the depths.

We have always made mistakes, but the greatest mistakes are the poems we have written.

Let us try for once not to be right.

Dada Dada Dada, a roaring of tense colors, and interlacing of opposites and of all contradictions, grotesques, inconsistencies: LIFE.

Dada is not modern at all, it is rather a return to a quasi-Buddhist religion of indifference. Dada puts an artificial sweetness onto things, a snow of butterflies coming out of a conjurer's skull. Dada is stillness and does not understand the passions.

Everyone dances to his own personal boomboom.

You'll never know why you exist, but you'll always allow yourselves to be easily persuaded to take life seriously.