The Poetic Image Is A Sudden Salience

True Poetry Is A Function Of Awakening. It Awakens Us, But It Must Retain The Memory Of Previous Dreams.

Air Is The Very Substance Of Our Freedom, The Substance Of Superhuman Joy.... Aerial Joy Is Freedom.

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.

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.

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.