I either eat too much or starve myself. Sleep for 14 hours or have insomniac nights. Fall in love very hard or hate passionately. I don't know what grey is. I never did.

The ivory tower of the artist may be the only stronghold left for human values, cultural treasures, man’s cult of beauty.

Keeping a Diary all my life helped me to discover some basic elements essential to the vitality of writing.

Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it.

I cheat him, I deceive him, yet the world does not sink in sulphur-colored mists. Madness conquers. I can no longer put my mosaics together. I just cry and laugh.

The city was asleep on its right side and shaking with violent nightmares. Long puffs of snoring came out of the chimneys. Its feet were sticking out because the clouds did not cover it altogether. There was a hole in them and the white feathers were falling out. The city had untied all its bridges like so many buttons to feel at ease. Wherever there was a lamplight the city scratched itself until it went out.

In music I feel most deeply the passing of things.