No Poem Is Intended For The Reader,

For What Is The Program Of The Bourgeois Parties? A Bad Poem On Springtime, Filled To Bursting With Metaphors.

Writers Are Really People Who Write Books Not Because They Are Poor, But Because They Are Dissatisfied With The Books Which They Could Buy But Do Not Like.

The Destructive Character Lives From The Feeling, Not That Life Is Worth Living, But That Suicide Is Not Worth The Trouble.

Man Is The Namer; By This We Recognize That Through Him Pure Language Speaks. All Nature, Insofar As It Communicates Itself, Communicates Itself In Language, And So Finally In Man. Hence, He Is The Lord Of Nature And Can Give Names To Things. Only Through The Linguistic Being Of Things Can He Get Beyond Himself And Attain Knowledge Of Them-in The Name. God's Creation Is Completed When Things Receive Their Names From Man, From Whom In Name Language Alone Speaks.

It Is In A Small Village In The Pyrenees Where No One Knows Me 7that My Life Will Come To A Close.... There Is Not Enough Time Remaining For Me To Write All The Letters I Would Like To Write.