What one wrote playfully, another reads with tension and passion; what one wrote with tension and passion, another reads playfully.

Poems are never finished - just abandoned

Follow the path of your aroused thought, and you will soon meet this infernal inscription: There is nothing so beautiful as that which does not exist.

A work is never completed except by some accident such as weariness, satisfaction, the need to deliver, or death: for, in relation to who or what is making it, it can only be one stage in a series of inner transformations.

To write regular verses destroys an infinite number of fine possibilities, but at the same time it suggests a multitude of distant and totally unexpected thoughts.

There is a difference if we see something with a pencil in our hand or without one.