A Prig Always Finds A Last Refuge

Nothing Is More Intriguing Than A Still Photograph In The Middle Of A Motion Picture... Just As An Accident Is A Cry Changed Into Silence And Not A Silence After A Cry, Photography Is Speed Rendered Motionless.

Poetry, Being Elegance Itself, Cannot Hope To Achieve Visibility... It Insists On Living Its Own Life.

When We Awake It Is The Animal, The Plant, That Thinks In Us. Primitive Thought Without The Least Disguise. We See A Terrible Universe, Because We See Clearly. A Little Later, Intelligence Introduces Its Impeding Contrivances. It Brings The Little Toys Which Man Invents In Order To Hide The Void. It Is Then That We Think We Are Seeing Clearly. We Attribute Our Uneasiness To The Miasmas Of The Brain As It Passes From Dream To Reality.

We Must Believe In Luck. For How Else Can We Explain The Success Of Those We Don't Like?

The Smell Of Opium Is The Least Stupid Smell In The World.