We have been poisoned by fairy tales.
I love the abstract, delicate, profound, vague, voluptuously wordless sensation of living ecstatically.
We cannot cure the evils of politics with politics.
We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them.
I sleep with my feet on moss carpets, my branches in the cotton of the clouds.
myself ... is merely an instrument to connect life and a myth