Dada Is A State Of Mind.

The Mind, Placed Before Any Kind Of Difficulty, Can Find An Ideal Outlet In The Absurd. Accommodation To The Absurd Readmits Adults To The Mysterious Realm Inhabited By Children.

The Clouds Were Disappearing Rapidly, Leaving The Stars To Die. The Night Dried Up.

Everything Tends To Make Us Believe That There Exists A Certain Point Of The Mind At Which Life And Death, The Real And The Imagined, Past And Future, The Communicable And The Incommunicable, High And Low, Cease To Be Perceived As Contradictions.

At The Word Witch, We Imagine The Horrible Old Crones From Macbeth. But The Cruel Trials Witches Suffered Teach Us The Opposite. Many Perished Precisely Because They Were Young And Beautiful.

I Insist On Knowing The Names, On Being Interested Only In Books Left Ajar, Like Doors; I Will Not Go Looking For Keys.