What has been forgotten is never something purely individual. Everything forgotten mingles with what has been forgotten of the prehistoric world, forms countless, uncertain, changing compounds, yielding a constant flow of new, strange products.

No poem is intended for the reader, no picture for the beholder, no symphony for the listener.

For what is the program of the bourgeois parties? A bad poem on springtime, filled to bursting with metaphors.

Writers are really people who write books not because they are poor, but because they are dissatisfied with the books which they could buy but do not like.

Never stop writing because you have run out of ideas.

He who observes etiquette but objects to lying is like someone who dresses fashionably but wears no vest.

Those who do not learn how to decipher photographs will be the illiterate of the future.