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

The artist is the only one who knows that the world is a subjective creation, that there is a choice to be made, a selection of elements.

You carry away with you a reflection of me, a part of me. I dreamed you; I wished for your existence. You will always be a part of my life. If I love you, it must be because we shared, at some moment, the same imaginings, the same madness, the same stage.

Anxiety is loves greatest killer.

This diary is my kief, hashish and opium pipe. This is my drug and my vice.

There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do.

My trunk, valises and my mind are overpacked.