I Long For Solitude And Yet I

You've Always Made The Mistake Of Being Yourself.

The Poet Cannot Invent New Words Every Time, Of Course. He Uses The Words Of The Tribe. But The Handling Of The Word, The Accent, A New Articulation, Renew Them.

Mediocrity Is More Dangerous In A Critic Than In A Writer.

For Me, It Is As Though At Every Moment The Actual World Had Completely Lost Its Actuality. As Though There Was Nothing There; Asthough There Were No Foundations For Anything Or As Though It Escaped Us. Only One Thing, However, Is Vividly Present: The Constant Tearing Of The Veil Of Appearances; The Constant Destruction Of Everything In Construction. Nothing Holds Together, Everything Falls Apart.

The Arts Are Man's Most Useless ... And Essential ... Activity.