If We Did Not Have A Feminine

In Writing, You Discover Interior Sonorities In Words. Dipthongs Sound Differently Beneath The Pen. One Hears Them With Their Sounds Divorced.

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 Reflected World Is The Conquest Of Calm.

The Philosophy Of Poetry Must Acknowledge That The Poetic Act Has No Past, At Least No Recent Past, In Which Its Preparation And Appearance Could Be Followed.

We Comfort Ourselves By Reliving Memories Of Protection. Something Closed Must Retain Our Memories, While Leaving Them Their Original Value As Images. Memories Of The Outside World Will Never Have The Same Tonality As Those Of Home And, By Recalling These Memories, We Add To Our Store Of Dreams; We Are Never Real Historians, But Always Near Poets, And Our Emotion Is Perhaps Nothing But An Expression Of A Poetry That Was Lost.