Even Money, Which Shines So Much, Spits

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

I Was Lucky Enough To See With My Own Eyes The Recent Stock-market Crash, Where They Lost Several Million Dollars, A Rabble Of Dead Money That Went Sliding Off Into The Sea.

To See You Naked Is To Recall The Earth.

What Shall I Say About Poetry? What Shall I Say About Those Clouds, Or About The Sky? Look; Look At Them; Look At It! And Nothing More. Don't You Understand Anything About Poetry? Leave That To The Critics And The Professors. For Neither You, Nor I, Nor Any Poet Knows What Poetry Is.

The Terrible Thing Is That The Crowd That Fills The Street Believes That The World Will Always Be The Same And That It Is Their Duty To Keep That Huge Machine Running, Day And Night, Forever. This Is What Comes Of A Protestant Morality, That I, As A (thank God) Typical Spaniard, Found Unnerving.