“to poke its umbrella tip in the mud of the electric light ”

“The sexual eagle exults he will gild the earth once morehis descending winghis ascending wing sways imperceptibly the sleeves of the peppermintand all the water's adorable undressDays are counted so clearlythat the mirror has yielded to a froth of frondsof the sky i see but one starnow around us there is only the milk describing its dizzy ellipsisfrom which sometimes soft intuition with pupils of eyed agaterises to poke its umbrella tip in the mud of the electric lightthen great reaches cast anchor stretch out in the depths of my closed eyesicebergs radiating the customs of all the worlds yet to comebron from a fragment of you fragment unkown and iced on the wingyour existence the giant bouquet escaping fr4om my armsis badly tied it didgs out walls unrolls the stairs of housesloses its leaves in the show windows of the streetto gether the news i am always leaving to gather the newsthe newspaper is glass today and if letters no longer arriveit's that the train has been consumedthe great incision of the emerald which gaave birth to the foliageis scarred for always the sawdust of blinding snowand the quarries of flesh are sounding along on the first shelfreversed on this shelfi take the impression of death and lifeto the liquid air”

“It is more or less a given that nothing is less favorable to clairvoyance than the bright sun: physical light and mental light coexist on very poor terms.”

“Today's education is entirely defective to the extent that, calling itself positivist, it begins with abusing the child's trust by presenting as true what is only either a temporary phenomenon or a hypothesis, when it's not a blatant untruth; and to the extent that it prevents children from forming in good time their own opinions by creasing into them certain habits that make their freedom of judgement an illusion”

“The idea of love walked along the water and her gaze was full of absence and her eyes spat lighting. The impressionable evening received by turns the imprints of grasses, clouds, bodies, and wore crazy astronomical designs. The idea of love walked straight ahead without seeing anything; she was wearing tiny isosceles mirrors whose perfect assemblage was amazing. They were so many images of fish tails, when, by their angelic nature, they answer the promise one might make of always finding each other again. Finding each other again even in the depths of a forest, where the thread of a star is an articulation more silent than life, the dawn a liquor stronger than blood. Who is lost, who truly wanders off when a cup of coffee is steaming in the fog and waiters dressed in snow circulate patiently on the surface of floors whose desired height can be indicated with one's hands? Who? A solitary man whom the idea of love has just left and who tucks in his spirit like an imaginary bed. The man falls all the same and in the next room, under the moon-white verandah, a woman rises whom the idea of love has abandoned. The gravel weeps outside, a rain of glass is falling in which we recognize small chains, tears in which we have time to see ourselves, mirror tears, shards of windows, singular crystals like the ones we witness in our hand on awakening, leaves and the faded petals of those roses that once embelished certain distillery bottles. It's just that the idea of love, it seems angry with love. This is how it began.”

“A game: say something. Close your eyes and say something. Anything, a number, a name. Like this (she closes her eyes): Two, two what? Two women. What do they look like? Wearing black. Where are they? In a park. . . . And then, what are they doing? Try it, it's so easy, why don't you want to play? You know, that's how I talk to myself when I'm alone, I tell myself all kinds of stories. And not only silly stories: actually, I live this way altogether.”

“Over and above the various prejudices I acknowledge, the affinities I feel, the attractions I succumb to, the events which occur to me and to me alone- over and above a sum of movements I am conscious of making, of emotions I alone experience- I strive, in relation to other men, to discover the nature, if not the necessity, of my difference from them. Is it not precisely to the degree I become conscious of this difference that I shall recognize what I alone have been put on this earth to do, what unique message I alone may bear, so that I alone can answer for its fate?”