The truly faithless one is the one who makes love to only a fraction of you. And denies the rest.

A big enough artist, I say, can eat anything, must eat everything and then alchemize it. Only the feeble writer is afraid of expansion.

Writing more and more to the sound of music, writing more and more like music. Sitting in my studio tonight, playing record after record, writing, music a stimulant of the highest order, far more potent than wine.

He does not need opium. He has the gift of reverie.

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

We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.

I had a feeling that Pandora's box contained the mysteries of woman's sensuality, so different from a man's and for which man's language was so inadequate. The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored.