The World Was Made In

The Poetic Act Consists Of Suddenly Seeing That An Idea Splits Up Into A Number Of Equal Motifs And Of Grouping Them; They Rhyme.

In Reading, A Lonely Quiet Concert Is Given To Our Minds; All Our Mental Faculties Will Be Present In This Symphonic Exaltation.

Everything That Is Sacred And That Wishes To Remain So Must Envelop Itself In Mystery.

A Throw Of The Dice Will Never Abolish Chance.

In A Museum In London There Is An Exhibit Called "the Value Of Man": A Long Coffinlike Box With Lots Of Compartments Where They've Put Starch Phosphorus Flour Bottles Of Water And Alcohol And Big Pieces Of Gelatin. I Am A Man Like That.