One Must Live To Build One's House,

The Human Being Taken In His Profound Reality As Well As In His Great Tension Of Becoming Is A Divided Being, A Being Which Divides Again, Having Permitted Himself The Illusion Of Unity For Barely An Instant. He Divides And Then Reunites.

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

The Words Of The World Want To Make Sentences.

Ideas Are Refined And Multiplied In The Commerce Of Minds. In Their Splendor, Images Effect A Very Simple Communion Of Souls.

Words, In Their Distant Past, Have The Past Of My Reveries.