So, Like A Forgotten Fire, A Childhood

The Dream Remains Overloaded With The Badly Lived Passions Of Daytime Life. Solitude In The Nocturnal Dream Is Always A Hostility. It Is Strange. It Isn't Really Our Solitude.

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

To Live Life Well Is To Express Life Poorly; If One Expresses Life Too Well, One Is Living It No Longer.

Man Is An Imagining Being.

Air Is The Very Substance Of Our Freedom, The Substance Of Superhuman Joy.... Aerial Joy Is Freedom.