Only Divine Love Bestows The Keys Of

You Feel On Your Lips A Kiss Fluttering, A Tiny Scrap Of Life.

Morality Is The Weakness Of The Mind.

I Could Never Throw Love Out Of The Window.

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

Now I Am An Outcast. I Loathe My Country. The Best Thing For Me Is A Drunken Sleep On The Beach.