The Imaginary Is What Tends To Become

Of All Those Arts In Which The Wise Excel, Nature's Chief Masterpiece Is Writing Well.

The Mind, Placed Before Any Kind Of Difficulty, Can Find An Ideal Outlet In The Absurd. Accommodation To The Absurd Readmits Adults To The Mysterious Realm Inhabited By Children.

Past And Future Monopolize The Poet’s Sensory And Intellectual Faculties, Detached From The Immediate Spectacle. These Two Philtres Become Utterly Clear The Moment One Stops Being Hypnotized By The Cloudy Precipitate Constituted By The World Of Today.

Words Have Finished Flirting. Now They Are Making Love.

I Maintain That Anyone Who Still Refuses To See, For Instance, A Horse Galloping On A Tomato, Must Be An Idiot. A Tomato Is Also A Child's Balloon - Surrealism, Again, Having Suppressed The Word "like."