The poet wanting to liberate himself from the imaginative realm, and not live exclusively from the image produced by real objects, stops dreaming and stops caring. He no longer cares, he no longer loves. He passes from the “imagination” which is an event of the soul, to “inspiration” which is a state of the soul. He passes from analysis to faith. Here things are because they must be, without any explicable cause or effect. There are no longer either terms or limits, admirable freedom!
— “Imagination, Inspiration, Evasion”