Happiness consumes itself like a flame. It cannot burn for ever, it must go out, and the presentiment of its end destroys it at its very peak.

A man with a so-called character is often a simple piece of mechanism; he has often only one point of view for the extremely complicated relationships of life.

That is the thankless position of the father in the family-the provider for all, and the enemy of all.

I, too, am beginning to feel an immense need to become a savage and create a new world.

[My characters are] conglomerations of past and present stages of civilization, bits from books and newspapers, scraps of humanity, rags and tatters of fine clothing, patched together as is the human soul

Now I know the full power of evil. It makes ugliness seem beautiful and goodness seem ugly and weak.

I love her and she loves me, and we hate each other with a wild hatred born of love.