If I Were Asked To Name The

Imagination Is A Tree. It Has The Integrative Virtues Of A Tree. It Is Root And Boughs. It Lives Between Earth And Sky. It Lives In The Earth And The Wind. The Imagined Tree Imperceptibly Becomes A Cosmological Tree, The Tree Which Epitomises A Universe, Which Makes A Universe.

A Clear Conscience Is, For Me, An Occupied Conscience-never Empty-the Conscience Of A Man At Work Until His Last Breath.

Childhood Knows Unhappiness Through Men. In Solitude, It Can Relax Its Aches. When The Human World Leaves Him In Peace, The Child Feels Like The Son Of The Cosmos.

The Poetic Image Exists Apart From Causality.

Instead Of Looking For The Dream In Reverie, People Should Look For Reverie In The Dream. There Are Calm Beaches In The Midst Of Nightmares.