I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated

Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness.

The bed must be a beautiful place, not only because you make love there but because you dream there as well.

My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.

I cannot concentrate all my friendship on any single one of my friends because no one is complete enough in himself.

I walked into my own book, seeking peace. It was night, and I made a careless movement inside the dream; I turned too brusquely the corner and I bruised myself against my madness.

He understands my pity for his ridiculous, humiliating physical necessity.