The American: a titan enamored of progress, a fanatical giant who worships "getting things done" but never asks himself what he is doing nor why he is doing it.

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The beloved is already in our being, as thirst and "otherness." Being is eroticism. Inspiration is that strange voice that takes man out of himself to be every thing that he is, everything that he desires; another body, another being. Beyond, outside of me, in the green and gold thicket, among the tremulous branches, sings the unknown. It calls to me.

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Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition. Man is the only being who knows he is alone.

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Love is an attempt at penetrating another being, but it can only succeed if the surrender is mutual.

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Love is born at first sight; the friendship of a frequent and lengthy exchange.

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Modern man likes to pretend that his thinking is wide-awake. But this wide-awake thinking has led us into the mazes of a nightmare in which the torture chambers are endlessly repeated in the mirrors of reason.

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Humankind is never what he is but the self he seeks.

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Poetry is not truth, it is the resurrection of presences.

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There is nothing sacred or untouchable except the freedom to think. Without criticism, that is to say, without rigor and experimentation, there is no science, without criticism there is no art or literature. I would also say that without criticism there is no healthy society.

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Every view of the world that becomes extinct, every culture that disappears, diminishes a possibility of life

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