I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.

Warmth, perfume, rugs, soft lights, books. They do not appease me. I am aware of time passing, of all the world contains that I have not seen, of all the interesting people I have not met.

If a person continues to see giants, it means he is still looking at the world through the eyes of a child.

Some people read to confirm their own hopelessness. Others read to be rescued from it.

The monster I kill every day is the monster of realism. The monster who attacks me every day is destruction. Out of the duel comes the transformation. I turn destruction into creation over and over again.

I write emotional algebra.

I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ