“For I is someone else. If the brass awakes as horn, it can’t be to blame. This much is clear: I’m around for the hatching of my thought; I watch it, I listen to it, I release a stroke from the bow; the symphony makes its rumblings in the depths or leaps fully formed onto the stage. If old fools hadn’t completely misunderstood the nature of the [self], We wouldn’t be constantly sweeping up these millions of skeletons that, since time immemorial, have hoarded products of their monocular intellects, a blindness of which they claim authorship!
...I mean that you ave to be a seer, mold oneself into a seer. The Poet makes himself into a seer by a long involved, and logical derangemenet of all the senses”
Rimbaud - Lettres du Voyant (The Seer Letters)
There is also an interesting discussion on the Lettres du Voyant here on the New Yorker by Ruth Franklin.