Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

Did not one spend the first half of one's days in dreams of happiness and the second half in regrets and terrors?

If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.

I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.

Art for me...is a negation of society, an affirmation of the individual, outside of all the rules and all the demands of society.

Respectable people... What bastards!

The day is not far off when one ordinary carrot may be pregnant with revolution.