Passion gives me moments of wholeness.

We celebrate peace. Yet we pay no attention to the ways of curing aggression in human beings. And when one sees in psychoanalysis hostility disappearing as people conquer their fears, one wonders if the cure is not there.

Tropical nights are hammocks for lovers.

I prefer empty cages, Sabina, until I find a unique bird I once saw in my dreams.

Memory is a great betrayer.

We see things the way we are, not the way they are.

She had lost herself somewhere along the frontier between her inventions, her stories, her fantasies and her true self. The boundaries had become effaced, the tracks lost, she had walked into pure chaos, and not a chaos which carried her like the galloping of romantic riders in operas and legends, but which suddenly revealed the stage props: a papier-mâché horse.