I have this weird obsession about buying books and looking at them with a smile, even if I won't read them soon. At least they are mine now.

I cheat him, I deceive him, yet the world does not sink in sulphur-colored mists. Madness conquers. I can no longer put my mosaics together. I just cry and laugh.

He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.

I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic — in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.

I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness.

Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness.

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