All Spiritual Journeys Are Martyrdoms

The Poet Is At The Disposal Of The Night. His Role Is Humble, He Must Clean House And Await Its Due Visitation.

The Extreme Limit Of Wisdom, That's What The Public Calls Madness.

Whatever The World Condemns You For, Make It Your Own. It Is Yourself.

I Have Not Looked At A Newspaper In Twenty Years; If One Is Brought Into The Room, I Flee. This Is Not Because I Am Indifferent But Because One Cannot Follow Every Road.

The Smell Of Opium Is The Least Stupid Smell In The World.