Sexual intercourse... a joyous, joyous, joyous, joyous impaling of woman on man's sensual mast.

He had a mania for washing and disinfecting himself. . . . For him the only danger came from the microbes that attacked the body. He had not studied the microbe of conscience which eats into the soul.

The secret of life was Breath. That was what I always wanted my words to do, to Breathe.

We are going to the moon that is not very far. Man has so much farther to go within himself.

I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.

I had a feeling that Pandora's box contained the mysteries of woman's sensuality, so different from a man's and for which man's language was so inadequate. The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored.

He does not need opium. He has the gift of reverie.