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

The owl flies, in the moonlight, over a field where the wounded cry out. Like the owl, I fly in the night over my own misfortune.

Eroticism, it may be said, is assenting to life up to the point of death

Each of us is incomplete compared to someone else - an animal's incomplete compared to a person... and a person compared to God, who is complete only to be imaginary.

The chaos of the mind cannot constitute a reply to the providence of the universe. All it can be is an awakening in the night, where all that can be heard is anguished poetry let loose.

Only literature could reveal the process of breaking the law - without which the law would have no end - independently of the necessity to create order.

Eroticism is the approval of life unto death.