“The extreme limit of wisdom, that’s what the public calls madness.”

Poetry is indispensable – if I only knew what for.

I have lost my seven best friends, which is to say God has had mercy on me seven times without realizing it. He lent a friendship, took it from me, sent me another.

You have comfort. You don’t have luxury. And don’t tell me that money plays a part. The luxury I advocate has nothing to do with money. It cannot be bought. It is the reward of those who have NO Fear or Discomfort.

When I write, I disturb. When I show a film, I disturb. When I exhibit my painting, I disturb, and I disturb if I don’t. I have a knack for disturbing.

The artist is a kind of prison from which the works of art escape.

A true photographer is as rare as a true poet or a true painter.

Whatever the world condemns you for, make it your own. It is yourself.

The public is never pleased with what we do, wanting always a copy of what we have done.

The job of the poet (a job which can’t be learned) consists of placing those objects of the visible world which have become invisible due to the glue of habit, in an unusual position which strikes the soul and gives them a tragic force.

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.

We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don’t like?

Poetry, being elegance itself, cannot hope to achieve visibility… It insists on living its own life.

Art is a marriage of the conscious and the unconscious.

I only fear the death of others. For me, true death is that of the people I love.

I have a piece of great and sad news to tell you: I am dead.

Poetry is a religion with no hope.

I was pushed to my limit and it almost broke my spirit I know change is for the best but there’s a part of me I haven’t left I’m taking time to love this mind of mine.

Self-love ultimately is knowing your limit on compromising and where you draw the line. People will tell you different things, making their own opinions sound like facts, but it is only you who can decide what your truth is.

How pleasant would it have been if our sorrows drowned themselves in our pellucid oceans of saline tears, beauty knows no limits.

The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.

Boundaries. Set them & then KEEP them.

Our life is endless in the way that our visual field is without limit.

Every person that comes into your life is here for a limited time, so be fair, be there.

The limits of your language are the limits of your world.