Air Is The Very Substance

For In The End, The Irreality Function Functions As Well In The Face Of Man As In The Face Of The Cosmos. What Would We Know Of Others If We Did Not Imagine Things?

A Universe Comes To Contribute To Our Happiness When Reverie Comes To Accentuate Our Repose. You Must Tell The Man Who Wants To Dream Well To Begin By Being Happy. Then Reverie Plays Out Its Veritable Destiny; It Becomes Poetic Reverie And By It, In It, Everything Becomes Beautiful. If The Dreamer Had "the Gift" He Would Turn His Reverie Into A Work. And This Work Would Be Grandiose Since The Dreamed World Is Automatically Grandiose.

Sometimes, When I Am Tired Of So Many Oscillations, I Look For Refuge In A Word Which I Begin To Love For Itself. Resting In The Heart Of Words, Seeing Clearly Into The Cell Of A Word, Feeling That The Word Is The Seed Of A Life, A Growing Dawn... The Poet Vandercammen Says All That In A Line: "a Word Can Be A Dawn And Even A Sure Shelter."

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

A Special Kind Of Beauty Exists Which Is Born In Language, Of Language, And For Language.