Paintings Are Painted With Paint, Not With

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.

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

A Throw Of The Dice Will Never Abolish Chance.

I Have Made A Long Enough Descent Into The Void To Speak With Certainty. There Is Nothing But Beauty--and Beauty Has Only One Perfect Expression, Poetry. All The Rest Is A Lie.

Paint, Not The Thing But The Effect Which It Produces.