We Shelter An Angel Within Us. We

Everything One Does In Life, Even Love, Occurs In An Express Train Racing Toward Death. To Smoke Opium Is To Get Out Of The Train While It Is Still Moving. It Is To Concern Oneself With Something Other Than Life Or Death.

Such Is The Role Of Poetry. It Unveils, In The Strict Sense Of The Word. It Lays Bare, Under A Light Which Shakes Off Torpor, The Surprising Things Which Surround Us And Which Our Senses Record Mechanically.

I've Always Preferred Mythology To History. History Is Truth That Becomes An Illusion. Mythology Is An Illusion That Becomes Reality.

It Is Not Inspiration; It Is Expiration.

I Am Burning Myself Up And Will Always Do So.