Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.
The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. You are watching its little flame die of asphyxiation.
Some people read to confirm their own hopelessness. Others read to be rescued from it.
Sexual intercourse... a joyous, joyous, joyous, joyous impaling of woman on man's sensual mast.
I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.
For too many centuries women have been being muses to artists. I wanted to be the muse, I wanted to be the wife of the artist, but I was really trying to avoid the final issue — that I had to do the job myself.