Look at the sun! It’s dry, it’s dead, it needs a drink, it wants blood! And I’ll give it blood!

Things they don't understand always cause a sensation among the English.

I deeply wished I could make the stars all come down and breathe them; disappear in them

Become corrupt, corrupt, and you will cease to suffer!" This has been the cry of all cities to man.

... but one loves, and when one is on the brink of death, one turns around to look backward, and one says to oneself: "I have often suffered, I have sometimes been wrong, but I have loved.

The return makes one love the farewell.

The blood of my motherland waters a magic plant that cures all ills. That plant is art, and sometimes art needs corruption as a kind of fertilizer