Man Is A Creation Of

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.

Imagination Is A Tree. It Has The Integrative Virtues Of A Tree. It Is Root And Boughs. It Lives Between Earth And Sky. It Lives In The Earth And The Wind. The Imagined Tree Imperceptibly Becomes A Cosmological Tree, The Tree Which Epitomises A Universe, Which Makes A Universe.

Of Course, A Psychologist Would Find It More Direct To Study The Inspired Poet. He Would Make Concrete Studies Of Inspiration In Individual Geniuses. But For All That, Would He Experience The Phenomena Of Inspiration? His Human Documentation Gathered From Inspired Poets Could Hardly Be Related, Except From The Exterior, In An Ideal Of Objective Observations. Comparison Of Inspired Poets Would Soon Make Us Lose Sight Of Inspiration.

Of Course, Any Simplification Runs The Risk Of Mutilating Reality; But It Helps Us Establish Perspectives.

It Will Always Be A Fact That The Woman Is The Person One Idealizes, Also The Person Who Wishes His Idealization.