Poetry Is A Religion With No Hope.

Catastrophe, Riots, Factories Blowing Up, Armies In Flight, Flood - The Ear Can Detect A Whole Apocalypse In The Starry Night Of The Human Body.

Celebrity: I Picture Myself As A Marble Bust With Legs To Run Everywhere.

Love Is Mainly An Affair Of Short Spasms. If These Spasms Disappoint Us, Love Dies. It Is Very Seldom That It Weathers The Experience And Becomes Friendship.

Since These Mysteries Exceed My Grasp, I Shall Pretend To Have Organized Them.

The Prettiest Dresses Are Worn To Be Taken Off.