Poetry Is The Alchemy Which Teaches Us

When She Closed Her Eyes She Felt He Had Many Hands, Which Touched Her Everywhere, And Many Mouths, Which Passed So Swiftly Over Her, And With A Wolflike Sharpness, His Teeth Sank Into Her Fleshiest Parts. Naked Now, He Lay His Full Length Over Her. She Enjoyed His Weight On Her, Enjoyed Being Crushed Under His Body. She Wanted Him Soldered To Her, From Mouth To Feet. Shivers Passed Through Her Body.

The Richest Source Of Creation Is Feeling, Followed By A Vision Of Its Meaning.

The Period Without The Diary Remains An Ordeal. Every Evening I Want My Diary As One Wants Opium.

Innocence Was Gone From All Our Acts. Our Habitual State Of Rebellion Became A Serious Political Crime.

Creation Which Cannot Express Itself Becomes Madness.