Life Is Laughter Amid A

The Artist, And Particularly The Poet, Is Always An Anarchist In The Best Sense Of The Word. He Must Heed Only The Call That Arises Within Him From Three Strong Voices: The Voice Of Death, With All Its Foreboding, The Voice Of Love And The Voice Of Art.

Love Is The Kiss In The Quiet Nest While The Leaves Are Trembling, Mirrored In The Water.

Everything's A Fan. Brother, Open Up Your Arms. God Is The Pivot.

I Will Always Be On The Side Of Those Who Have Nothing And Who Are Not Even Allowed To Enjoy The Nothing They Have In Peace.

Today In My Heart A Vague Trembling Of Stars And All Roses Are As White As My Pain.