I sat there for three hours and did not feel the time or the boredom of our talk and its foolish disconnection. As long as I could hear his voice, I was quite lost, quite blind, quite outside my own self.

Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.

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

Not afraid of poverty and drabness and who is untouched by it, untouched by the drunkenness of her friends; (she) who judges, selects, discards people with severity, who knows, when she is telling her endless anecdotes, that they are ways of escape, keeping herself all the more secret behind that profuse talk.

myself ... is merely an instrument to connect life and a myth

Our love lives because I live.

I will not be just a tourist in the world of images, just watching images passing by which I cannot live in, make love to, possess as permanent sources of joy and ecstasy.