One Doesn't Read Poetry While Thinking Of

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

Sometimes, When I Am Tired Of So Many Oscillations, I Look For Refuge In A Word Which I Begin To Love For Itself. Resting In The Heart Of Words, Seeing Clearly Into The Cell Of A Word, Feeling That The Word Is The Seed Of A Life, A Growing Dawn... The Poet Vandercammen Says All That In A Line: "a Word Can Be A Dawn And Even A Sure Shelter."

A House That Has Been Experienced Is Not An Inert Box. Inhabited Space Transcends Geometrical Space.

The Repose Of Sleep Refreshes Only The Body. It Rarely Sets The Soul At Rest. The Repose Of The Night Does Not Belong To Us. It Is Not The Possession Of Our Being. Sleep Opens Within Us An Inn For Phantoms. In The Morning We Must Sweep Out The Shadows.

The Reflected World Is The Conquest Of Calm.