Love is a taste for prostitution. In fact, there is no noble pleasure that cannot be reduced to Prostitution.
How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.
There are some temptations which are so strong that they must be virtues.
What is irritating about love is that it is a crime that requires an accomplice.
Today I felt pass over me A breath of wind from the wings of madness.
It would perhaps be nice to be alternately the victim and the executioner.