Dreams Have As Much Influences As Actions.

Paintings Are Painted With Paint, Not With Ideas.

It Is The Job Of Poetry To Clean Up Our Word-clogged Reality By Creating Silences Around Things.

Everything That Is Sacred And That Wishes To Remain So Must Envelop Itself In Mystery.

O Naked Flower Of My Lips, You Lie! I Await A Thing Unknown Or Perhaps, Unaware Of The Mystery And Your Cries You Give, O Lips, The Supreme Tortured Moans Of A Childhood Groping Among Its Reveries To Sort Out Finally Its Cold Precious Stones.

A Throw Of The Dice Will Never Abolish Chance.