The way to recognize a dead word is that it exudes boredom.

I believe that men are generally still a little afraid of the dark though the witches are all hung, and Christianity and candles have been introduced.

When others asked the truth of me, I was convinced it was not the truth they wanted, but an illusion they could bear to live with.

Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s.

Where the myth fails, human love begins. Then we love a human being, not our dream, but a human being with flaws.

What is love but acceptance of the other, whatever he is.

I gathered poets around me and we all wrote beautiful erotica. As we were condemned to focus only on sensuality, we had violent explosions of poetry. Writing erotica became a road to sainthood rather than to debauchery.