The Poetic Image Exists Apart From Causality.

Of Course, Any Simplification Runs The Risk Of Mutilating Reality; But It Helps Us Establish Perspectives.

Two Half Philosophers Will Probably Never A Whole Metaphysician Make.

Very Often, I Confess, The Teller Of Dreams Bores Me. His Dream Could Perhaps Interest Me If It Were Frankly Worked On. But To Hear A Glorious Tale Of His Insanity! I Have Not Yet Clarified, Psychoanalytically, This Boredom During The Recital Of Other People's Dreams. Perhaps I Have Retained The Stiffness Of A Rationalist. I Do Not Follow The Tale Of Justified Incoherence Docilely. I Always Suspect That Part Of The Stupidities Being Recounted Are Invented.

Reverie Is Commonly Classified Among The Phenomena Of Psychic Detente. It Is Lived Out In A Relaxed Time Which Has No Linking Force. Since It Functions With Inattention, It Is Often Without Memory. It Is A Flight From Out Of The Real That Does Not Always Find A Consistent Unreal World.

Sometimes, When I Am Tired Of So Many Oscillations, I Look For Refuge In A Word Which I Begin To Love For Itself. Resting In The Heart Of Words, Seeing Clearly Into The Cell Of A Word, Feeling That The Word Is The Seed Of A Life, A Growing Dawn... The Poet Vandercammen Says All That In A Line: "a Word Can Be A Dawn And Even A Sure Shelter."