The Only Way To Kill Death Is

A Prig Always Finds A Last Refuge In Responsibility.

A Picture Is Not A Window...an Abstract Refers To No Reality But Its Own.

Beauty Makes One Lose One's Head. Poetry Is Born Of This Decapitation

Such Is The Role Of Poetry. It Unveils, In The Strict Sense Of The Word. It Lays Bare, Under A Light Which Shakes Off Torpor, The Surprising Things Which Surround Us And Which Our Senses Record Mechanically.

Do As The Beautiful Woman: See To Your Figure And Your Petticoats. Though, Of Course, I Am Not Speaking Literally.