He was prepared to die for it, as one of Baudelaire's dandies might have been prepared to kill himself in order to preserve himself in the condition of a work of art, for he wanted to make this experience a masterpiece of experience which absolutely transcended the everyday. And this would annihilate the effects of the cruel drug, boredom, to which he was addicted although, perhaps, the element of boredom which is implicit in an affair so isolated from the real world was its principle appeal for him.

I think I want to be in love with you but I don't know how.

There is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

I don't really think that writers, even great writers, are prophets, or sages, or Messiah-like figures; writing is a lonely, sedentary occupation and a touch of megalomania can be comforting around five on a November afternoon when you haven't seen anybody all day.

A mother is always a mother, since a mother is a biological fact, whilst a father is a movable feast.

Stars on our door, stars in our eyes, stars exploding in the bits of our brains where the common sense should have been

I see her as a series of marvellous shapes formed at random in the kaleidoscope of desire.