“The reveries of two solitary souls prepare the sweetness of loving.”

Cosmic reveries separate us from project reveries. They situate us in a world and not in a society. The cosmic reverie possesses a sort of stability or tranquility. It helps us escape time. It is a state.

We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection.

The night dreamer cannot articulate a cogito. The night dream is a dream without a dreamer.

One must live to build one’s house, and not build one’s house to live in.

The blank page gives us the right to dream.

To disappear into deep water or to disappear toward a far horizon, to become part of depth of infinity, such is the destiny of man that finds its image in the destiny of water.

Why should the actions of the imagination not be as real as those of perception?

Any comparison diminishes the expressive qualities of the terms of the comparison.

We are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.

If we did not have a feminine being within us, how would we rest ourselves?

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears its truth.

The cleverer I am at miniaturizing the world, the better I possess it.

A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.

The reverie would not last if it were not nourished by the images of the sweetness of living, by the illusions of happiness.

Nobody knows that in reading we are re-living our temptations to be a poet. All readers who have a certain passion for reading, nurture and repress, through reading, the desire to become a writer.

Reverie is not a mind vacuum. It is rather the gift of an hour which knows the plenitude of the soul.

My daughter will find some of the sweetest words to tell you that can make a grown man cry. She still gives me the same inspiration. She still motivates me.

Deep down, I reckon the sweetest moment will come when it’s finally all over. When, at last, I know that I can stop fighting. Of course it’ll also be a little sad. The sweetest moments, y’know, always come with just a little sadness.

The sweetest thing a guy said is that I look pretty with or without makeup.

The jazz I love is sweet and pure with raw elements, which is exactly what the good hip-hop is doing now.

The small courtesies sweeten life; the greater ennoble it.

It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it.

Discretion is the salt, and fancy the sugar of life; the one preserves, the other sweetens it.

These secrets sit sourly on my tongue. They linger the longer I go without a sip of your sweet elixir.