By being too sensitive I have wasted my life. - Arthur Rimbaud

As of today, I rebel against death! Work seems frivolous; I'm a proud man, and a lifetime's work would be too brief an agony for me. At the last moment, I'd attack...to the right...to the left...And then — oh! — sweet old soul of mine, eternity would not have been wasted on us!

ONCE, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed. One evening I seated Beauty on my knees. And I found her bitter. And I cursed her.

Old poetics played a large part in my alchemy of the word.