atrophy of feeling creates criminals.

I like extravagance. Letters which give the postman a stiff back to carry, books which overflow from their covers, sexuality which bursts the thermometers.

I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.

Woman does not forget she needs the fecundator, she does not forget that everything that is born of her is planted in her.

Nothing endures unless it has first been transposed into a myth, and the great advantage of myths is that they are ladies with portable roots.

I love man as creator, lover, husband, friend, but man the father I do not trust. I do not believe in man as father. I do not trust man as father.

The artist is the only one who knows that the world is a subjective creation, that there is a choice to be made, a selection of elements.