Out of the frying pan into the fire! What is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many? No different!

So I suppose I do not know how he really looked, and, in fact, I suppose I shall never know, now, for he was plainly an object created in the mode of fantasy. His image was already present somewhere in my head and I was seeking to discover it in actuality, looking at every face I met in case it was the right face - that is, the face which corresponded to my notion of the unseen face of the one I should love, a face created parthenogeneticallyby the rage to love which consumed me.

A day without an argument is like an egg without salt.

Iconic clothing has been secularized. . . . A guardsman in a dress uniform is ostensibly an icon of aggression; his coat is red as the blood he hopes to shed. Seen on a coat-hanger, with no man inside it, the uniform loses all its blustering significance and, to the innocent eye seduced by decorative colour and tactile braid, it is as abstract in symbolic information as a parasol to an Eskimo. It becomes simply magnificent.

A book is simply the container of an idea-like a bottle; what is inside the book is what matters.

Cities have sexes: London is a man, Paris a woman, and New York a well-adjusted transsexual.

Is not this world an illusion? And yet it fools everybody.