You know what black hatred women feel toward me as soon as they see me, until I return inside my shell, they use every possible weapon. As soon as a generous man tries to help me out, a woman is here to hold his arm and prevent him from acting.

There is always something missing that torments me.

I have fallen into an abyss. I live in a world so curious, so strange. Of the dream that was my life, this is my nightmare.

I have been back in Paris for two weeks. Nothing new. Life is still bitter.

I have all sorts of problems and feel discouraged.

Send me one hundred francs on our future deals, otherwise I will disappear in a cataclysm.

Madhouses are houses made on purpose to cause suffering . . . I cannot stand any longer the screams of these creatures.