Poetry Is One Of The Destinies Of

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.

Sometimes, When I Am Tired Of So Many Oscillations, I Look For Refuge In A Word Which I Begin To Love For Itself. Resting In The Heart Of Words, Seeing Clearly Into The Cell Of A Word, Feeling That The Word Is The Seed Of A Life, A Growing Dawn... The Poet Vandercammen Says All That In A Line: "a Word Can Be A Dawn And Even A Sure Shelter."

If I Were Asked To Name The Chief Benefit Of The House, I Should Say: The House Shelters Day-dreaming, The House Protects The Dreamer, The House Allows One To Dream In Peace.

The Subconscious Is Ceaselessly Murmuring, And It Is By Listening To These Murmurs That One Hears Its Truth.

Happy Is The Man Who Knows Or Even The Man Who Remembers Those Silent Vigils Where Silence Itself Was The Sign Of The Communion Of Souls!