Writing Is Only A Guided Dream.

The Aesthetic Event Is Something As Evident, As Immediate, As Indefinable As Love, The Taste Of Fruit, Of Water. We Feel Poetry As We Feel The Closeness Of A Woman, Or As We Feel A Mountain Or A Bay. If We Feel It Immediately, Why Dilute It With Other Words, Which No Doubt Will Be Weaker Than Our Feelings?

Time Is The Substance Of Which We Are Made

Reality Is Partial To Symmetry And Slight Anachronisms

I Saw All The Mirrors On Earth And None Of Them Reflected Me.

May Heaven Exist, Even If My Place Is Hell.