We did not lack modesty—on the contrary—but something urgently drove us to defy modesty together as immodestly as possible.

I teach the art of turning anguish into delight.

You perhaps now know that desire reduces us to pulp.

My true church is a whorehouse – the only one that gives me true satisfaction.

Incredible nervous state, trepidation beyond words: to be this much in love is to be sick (and I love to be sick).

Eroticism is the approval of life unto death.

But a sort of rupture-in anguish-leaves us at the limit of tears: in such a case we lose ourselves, we forget ourselves and communicate with an elusive beyond.