The Blank Page Gives Us The Right

Written Language Must Be Considered As A Particular Psychic Reality. The Book Is Permanent; It Is An Object In Your Field Of Vision. It Speaks To You With A Monotonous Authority Which Even Its Author Would Not Have. You Are Fairly Obliged To Read What Is Written.

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."

It Is Not A Question Of Observation Which Propels Mankind Forward As If Toward A Looking Glass Of Great Magnitude; It Is An Instance Of Aggrandized Reflection That Insinuates The Human Psyche To The Inhuman.

It Is Through The Intentionality Of Poetic Imagination That The Poet's Soul Discovers The Opening Of Consciousness Common To All True Poetry.

A Pretext-not A Cause-is Sufficient For Us To Enter The "solitary Situation", The Situation Of The Dreaming Solitude. In This Solitude, Memories Arrange Themselves In Tableaux. Decor Takes Precedence Over Drama. Sad Memories Take On At Least The Peace Of Melancholy.