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.

Strange, isn't it, that no chemical will give a human being the iridescence that illusions have given them? Give me your hat.

My trunk, valises and my mind are overpacked.

But I lie. I embellish. My words are not deep enough. They disguise, they conceal. I will not rest until I have told of my descent into a sensuality which was as dark, as magnificent, as wild, as my moments of mystic creation have been dazzling, ecstatic, exalted.

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

the best way to remember a beautiful city or a beautiful painting is to eat something while you are looking at it. The flavor really helps the image to penetrate the body. It fixes it as lacquer does a drawing.

How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.