There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.

Human beings can reach such desperate solitude that they may cross a boundary beyond which words cannot serve, and at such moments there is nothing left for them but to bark.

I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.

The imagination is far better at inventing tortures than life because the imagination is a demon within us and it knows where to strike, where it hurts. It knows the vulnerable spot, and life does not, our friends and lovers do not, because seldom do they have the imagination equal to the task.

I hate rarely, though when I hate, I hate murderously.

Adolescence is like cactus.

I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.