Who Am I? If This Once I

I Find It Impossible To Think Of A Picture Save As A Window, And My First Concern About A Window Is To Find Out What It Looks Out On... And There Is Nothing I Love So Much As Something Which Stretches Away From Me Out Of Sight.

Past And Future Monopolize The Poet’s Sensory And Intellectual Faculties, Detached From The Immediate Spectacle. These Two Philtres Become Utterly Clear The Moment One Stops Being Hypnotized By The Cloudy Precipitate Constituted By The World Of Today.

When Will The Arbitrary Be Granted The Place It Deserves In The Formation Of Works And Ideas?

Psychic Automatism In Its Pure State, By Which One Proposes To Express - Verbally, By Means Of The Written Word, Or In Any Other Manner - The Actual Functioning Of Thought. Dictated By The Thought, In The Absence Of Any Control Exercised By Reason, Exempt From Any Aesthetic Or Moral Concern.

The Lamentable Expression: 'but It Was Only A Dream", The Increasing Use Of Which - Among Others In The Domain Of The Cinema - Has Contributed Not A Little To Encourage Such Hypocrisy, Has For A Long While Ceased To Merit Discussion.