One Evening I Sat Beauty

-but I've Just Noticed That My Mind Is Asleep.

The Poet Makes Himself A Voyant Through A Long, Immense Reasoned Deranging Of All His Senses. All The Forms Of Love, Of Suffering, Of Madness; He Tries To Find Himself, He Exhausts In Himself All The Poisons, To Keep Only Their Quintessences.

For A Long Time I Found The Celebrities Of Modern Painting And Poetry Ridiculous. I Loved Absurd Pictures, Fanlights, Stage Scenery, Mountebanks Backcloths, Inn-signs, Cheap Colored Prints; Unfashionable Literature, Church Latin, Pornographic Books Badly Spelt, Grandmothers Novels, Fairy Stories, Little Books For Children, Old Operas, Empty Refrains, Simple Rhythms.

Weakness Or Strength: You Exist, That Is Strength. You Don't Know Where You Are Going Or Why You Are Going, Go In Everywhere, Answer Everyone. No One Will Kill You, Any More Than If You Were A Corpse.

Eternity Is The Sun Mixed With The Sea