When The Image Is New, The World

An Excess Of Childhood Is The Germ Of A Poem.

The Human Being Taken In His Profound Reality As Well As In His Great Tension Of Becoming Is A Divided Being, A Being Which Divides Again, Having Permitted Himself The Illusion Of Unity For Barely An Instant. He Divides And Then Reunites.

One Must Always Maintain One's Connection To The Past And Yet Ceaselessly Pull Away From It.

Reverie Is Not A Mind Vacuum. It Is Rather The Gift Of An Hour Which Knows The Plenitude Of The Soul.

It Is Better To Live In A State Of Impermanence Than In One Of Finality.