We love best those who are, or act for us, a self we do not wish to be or act out.

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

To withhold from living is to die ... the more you give of yourself to life the more life nourishes you.

How well I know with what burning intensity you live. You have experienced many lives already, including several you have shared with me- full rich lives from birth to death, and you just have to have these rest periods in between.

Those who cannot live fully often become destroyers of life.

Now that I am moving, I am afraid. Where am I going?

I gathered poets around me and we all wrote beautiful erotica. As we were condemned to focus only on sensuality, we had violent explosions of poetry. Writing erotica became a road to sainthood rather than to debauchery.