We Must Believe In Luck.

A Prig Always Finds A Last Refuge In Responsibility.

Beauty Makes One Lose One's Head. Poetry Is Born Of This Decapitation

Man Seeks To Escape Himself In Myth, And Does So By Any Means At His Disposal. Drugs, Alcohol, Or Lies. Unable To Withdraw Into Himself, He Disguises Himself. Lies And Inaccuracy Give Him A Few Moments Of Comfort.

The Actual Tragedies Of Life Bear No Relation To One's Preconceived Ideas. In The Event, One Is Always Bewildered By Their Simplicity, Their Grandeur Of Design, And By That Element Of The Bizarre Which Seems Inherent In Them.

The Spirit Of Creation Is The Spirit Of Contradiction. It Is The Breakthrough Of Appearances Toward An Unknown Reality.