Every Soul Is A Melody Which Needs

The World Was Made In Order To Result In A Beautiful Book.

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

The World Exists To End Up In A Book.

The Poetic Act Consists Of Suddenly Seeing That An Idea Splits Up Into A Number Of Equal Motifs And Of Grouping Them; They Rhyme.

There Is Only Beauty / And It Has Only One Perfect Expression / Poetry. All The Rest Is A Lie /except For Those Who Live By The Body, Love, And, That Love Of The Mind, Friendship. For Me, Poetry Takes The Place Of Love, Because It Is Enamored Of Itself, And Because Its Sensual Delight Falls Back Deliciously In My Soul.