“When,Nothing,is,so,well,said,Or,so,well,done,It,betrays,itself,and,becomes,Something:As,apples,by,Cézanne,or,just,Lines,by,Modrian.”

“Art is a miraculous flirtation with Nothing!Aiming for nothing, and landing on the Sun.”

“Have I sung?Have I become soft, beautiful?”

“I,astonish,Death,with,my,largesse. She,becomes,a,silly,maid,Saying, “Never,mind. Never,mind.”

“Be beautiful, noble, like the antique ant,Who bore the storms as he bore the sun, Wearing neither gown nor helmet, Though he was archbishop and soldier:Wore only his own flesh....Trace the tracelessness of the ant,Every ant has reached this perfection.As he comes, so he goes,Flowing as water flows,Essential but secret like a rose.”

“I shall talk to you through trees, through the arms of dancers, through sweet words uttered by many lovers.The arms of dancers round you shall be my arms.The eyes of men admiring you shall be my eyes.I have many arms, many eyes.It is that, loving you, I have become many lovers.”

“A radio made of seawaterWill have mermaids for music: Who when me they will kissAll my senses will greet.”