Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous.

I am like a snake who has already bitten. I retreat from a direct battle while knowing the slow effect of the poison.

I love the abstract, delicate, profound, vague, voluptuously wordless sensation of living ecstatically.

Those who cannot live fully often become destroyers of life.

I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.

The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.

The final lesson a writer learns is that everything can nourish the writer.