Big Business and Politics are twins, they are the monsters who kill everything, corrupt everything.

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.

The ivory tower of the artist may be the only stronghold left for human values, cultural treasures, man’s cult of beauty.

Ordinary life does not interest me.

They courted the face on the screen, the face of translucence, the face of wax on which men found it possible to imprint the image of their fantasy.

I love your silences, they are like mine.

You are so terribly nimble, so clever. I distrust your cleverness. You make a wonderful pattern, everything is in its place, it looks convincingly clear, too clear. And meanwhile, where are you? Not on the clear surface of your ideas, but you have already sunk deeper, into darker regions, so that one only thinks one has been given all your thoughts, one only imagines you have emptied yourself in that clarity. But there are layers and layers - you're bottomless, unfathomable. Your clearness is deceptive. You are the thinker who arouses most confusion in me, most doubt, most disturbance.