Poetry Is The Language Of A State

Everything In The World Exists In Order To End Up As A Book.

Every Soul Is A Melody Which Needs Renewing.

Poetry Is The Language Of A State Of Crisis.

The World Was Made In Order To Result In A Beautiful Book.

The Reproach That Superficial People Formulate Against Manet, That Whereas Once He Painted Ugliness, Now He Paints Vulgarity, Falls Harmlessly To The Ground, When We Recognize The Fact That He Paints The Truth.