One Doesn't Read Poetry While Thinking Of

The Reveries Of Two Solitary Souls Prepare The Sweetness Of Loving.

Very Often, I Confess, The Teller Of Dreams Bores Me. His Dream Could Perhaps Interest Me If It Were Frankly Worked On. But To Hear A Glorious Tale Of His Insanity! I Have Not Yet Clarified, Psychoanalytically, This Boredom During The Recital Of Other People's Dreams. Perhaps I Have Retained The Stiffness Of A Rationalist. I Do Not Follow The Tale Of Justified Incoherence Docilely. I Always Suspect That Part Of The Stupidities Being Recounted Are Invented.

The Human Mind Has Claimed For Water One Of Its Highest Values-the Value Of Purity.

In Living Off All The Reflecting Light Furnished By Poets, The I Which Dreams The Reverie Reveals Itself Not As Poet But As Poetizing I.

If I Were Asked To Name The Chief Benefit Of The House, I Should Say: The House Shelters Day-dreaming, The House Protects The Dreamer, The House Allows One To Dream In Peace.