All unlived emotions turn to inanity.

I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.

I like extravagance. Letters which give the postman a stiff back to carry, books which overflow from their covers, sexuality which bursts the thermometers.

willingness to explore everything is a sign of strength. The weak ones have prejudices. Prejudices are a protection.

I am like a snake who has already bitten. I retreat from a direct battle while knowing the slow effect of the poison.

Descendants of pigeons once fed by Keats, Byron, George Sand, Chopin and many other famous lovers are still being fed, and the sudden sound when they all rise together, frightened away, is like the sound of giant sails flapping.

She had lost herself somewhere along the frontier between her inventions, her stories, her fantasies and her true self. The boundaries had become effaced, the tracks lost, she had walked into pure chaos, and not a chaos which carried her like the galloping of romantic riders in operas and legends, but which suddenly revealed the stage props: a papier-mâché horse.