Ideas Are Invented Only As

Cosmic Reveries Separate Us From Project Reveries. They Situate Us In A World And Not In A Society. The Cosmic Reverie Possesses A Sort Of Stability Or Tranquility. It Helps Us Escape Time. It Is A State.

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."

We Must Listen To Poets.

Very Often, I Confess, The Teller Of Dreams Bores Me. His Dream Could Perhaps Interest Me If It Were Frankly Worked On. But To Hear A Glorious Tale Of His Insanity! I Have Not Yet Clarified, Psychoanalytically, This Boredom During The Recital Of Other People's Dreams. Perhaps I Have Retained The Stiffness Of A Rationalist. I Do Not Follow The Tale Of Justified Incoherence Docilely. I Always Suspect That Part Of The Stupidities Being Recounted Are Invented.

Love Is Never Finished Expressing Itself, And It Expresses Itself Better The More Poetically It Is Dreamed.