Man Is An Imagining Being.

Rilke Wrote: 'these Trees Are Magnificent, But Even More Magnificent Is The Sublime And Moving Space Between Them, As Though With Their Growth It Too Increased.

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.

Nobody Knows That In Reading We Are Re-living Our Temptations To Be A Poet. All Readers Who Have A Certain Passion For Reading, Nurture And Repress, Through Reading, The Desire To Become A Writer.

Literary Imagination Is An Aesthetic Object Offered By A Writer To A Lover Of Books.

What Is The Source Of Our First Suffering? It Lies In The Fact That We Hesitated To Speak... It Was Born In The Moment When We Accumulated Silent Things Within Us.