“[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality.(cristaux deposes apres l'effervescent contact de l'esprit avec la realite)”

“ADIEUThe glimmer farther away than the head The heart-skip On the slope where the air rolls its voice The spokes of the wheel the sun in the rut At the crossroads near the embankment a prayer Some ...”

“White clouds, blue sky.”

“Cloud is cloud.”

“Hope is like a word made with cloud, without faith, it quickly blows away.”

“Saturday night is perfect for writers because other people have "plans.”

“Night is certainly more novel and less profane than day.”

“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

“A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman. Eternal love and instant payment!”

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

“A woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript.”