Never read a book to the end, nor even in sequence and without skipping.

We may know that the work we continue to put off doing will be bad. Worse, however, is the work we never do. A work that’s finished is at least finished. It may be poor, but it exists, like the miserable plant in the lone flowerpot of my neighbour who’s crippled. That plant is her happiness, and sometimes it’s even mine. What I write, bad as it is, may provide some hurt or sad soul a few moments of distraction from something worse. That’s enough for me, or it isn’t enough, but it serves some purpose, and so it is with all of life.

We live by action—by acting on desire. Those of us who don't know how to want—whether geniuses or beggars—are related by impotence.

Myth is the nothing that is all.

I enjoy wording. Words for me are tangible bodies, visible sirens, incarnate sensualities.

Decadence is the total loss of unconsciousness, which is the very basis of life. Could it think, the heart would stop beating.

I feel as if I'm always on the verge of waking up.