Give me the death of my soul. Intoxicate me with self-love.

The more Chaotic I am, the more complete I am.

And remember, you shall suffer all things and again suffer: until you have sufficient sufferance to accept all things.

In our solitariness... great depths are sometimes sounded. Truth hideth in company.

Art is the instinctive application of the knowledge latent in the subconscious.

The three heads of God were sundered from existence. Who shall say that this was accident? And likewise, who shall say that accidents be not but arabesques within some wider figure? Of this nothing is known.

The soul is the ancestral animals. The body is their knowledge.