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.

It is hard not to see into the future, faced with today's blind architecture - a thousand times more stupid and more revolting than that of other ages. How bored we shall be inside!

As I go on my way I may happen to fall from a precipice or be pursued by stones, but each time, I beg you to believe, it’s only a reality.

In the world we live in everything militates in favor of things that have not yet happened, of things that will never happen again.