Even Paranoids Have Real Enemies.

I Admired My Father Very Much... At The Age Of Sixteen. But Now I See That He Was A Brutal And Cruel Man, - But Not Without Remorse, And That Was What Tortured Us, His Alternations.

Poetry Must Be As New As Foam & Old As Rock.

Love Is The Tact Of Every Good, The Only Warmth, The Only Peace.

And Hence The Poet Must Seek To Be Essentially Anonymous, He Must Die A Little Death Each Morning, He Must Swallow His Toad And Study His Vomit As Baudelaire Studied La Charogne Of Jeanne Duval.

Order And Disorder, Form And Formless Must Have Profound Psychological Roots, Nervous Roots.