The Poetic Image Is A Sudden Salience

Words Are Clamor-filled Shells. There's Many A Story In The Miniature Of A Single Word!

There Is No Original Truth, Only Original Error.

Of Course, Thanks To The House, A Great Many Of Our Memories Are Housed, And If The House Is A Bit Elaborate, If It Has A Cellar And A Garret, Nooks And Corridors, Our Memories Have Refuges That Are All The More Clearly Delineated. All Our Lives We Come Back To Them In Our Daydreams. A Psychoanalyst Should, Therefore, Turn His Attention To This Simple Localization Of Our Memories. I Should Like To Give The Name Of Topoanalysis To This Auxiliary Of Pyschoanalysis. Topoanalysis, Then Would Be The Systematic Psychological Study Of The Sites Of Our Intimate Lives.

Nothing Is Forgotten In The Processes Of Idealization. Reveries Of Idealization Develop, Not By Letting Oneself Be Taken In By Memories, But By Constantly Dreaming The Values Of A Being Whom One Would Love. And That Is The Way A Great Dreamer Dreams His Double. His Magnified Double Sustains Him.

The Repose Of Sleep Refreshes Only The Body. It Rarely Sets The Soul At Rest. The Repose Of The Night Does Not Belong To Us. It Is Not The Possession Of Our Being. Sleep Opens Within Us An Inn For Phantoms. In The Morning We Must Sweep Out The Shadows.