The Reflected World Is The Conquest Of

The Reverie Would Not Last If It Were Not Nourished By The Images Of The Sweetness Of Living, By The Illusions Of Happiness.

Happy Is The Man Who Knows Or Even The Man Who Remembers Those Silent Vigils Where Silence Itself Was The Sign Of The Communion Of Souls!

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.

Two Half Philosophers Will Probably Never A Whole Metaphysician Make.

The Reverie We Intend To Study Is Poetic Reverie. This Is A Reverie Which Poetry Puts On The Right Track, The Track An Expanding Consciousness Follows. This Reverie Is Written, Or, At Least, Promises To Be Written. It Is Already Facing The Great Universe Of The Blank Page. Then Images Begin To Compose And Fall Into Place.