We three belong to the Middle Ages. We have this need of heroism, and there is no place for such feelings in modern life. That is our tragedy. Once I wanted to be a saint. It seemed the only absolute act left to do, for what is most powerful in me is the craving for purity, greatness.

I miss the animal buoyancy of New York, the animal vitality. I did not mind that it had no meaning and no depth.

His life rushes onward in such torrential rhythm that...only angels and devils can catch the tempo of it.

It is my secrecy which makes you unhappy, my evasions, my silences. And so I have found a solution. Whenever you get desperate with my mysteries, my ambiguities, here is a set of Chinese puzzle boxes. You have always said that I was myself a Chinese puzzle box. When you are in the mood and I baffle your love of confidences, your love of openness, your love of sharing experiences, then open one of the boxes. And in it you will find a story, a story about me and my life. Do you like this idea? Do you think it will help us to live together?

The period without the diary remains an ordeal. Every evening I want my diary as one wants opium.

In music I feel most deeply the passing of things.

I have this weird obsession about buying books and looking at them with a smile, even if I won't read them soon. At least they are mine now.