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

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

Indeed, the direction of the future is only there in order to elude us.

It seems impossible, in fact, to judge the eye using any word other than seductive, since nothing is more attractive in the bodies of animals and men. But extreme seductiveness is probably at the boundary of horror.

Naturally, love's the most distant possibility.

I believe that truth has only one face: that of a violent contradiction.

Realism gives me the impression of a mistake. Violence alone escapes the feeling of poverty of those realistic experiences. Only death and desire have the force that oppresses, that takes one's breath away. Only the extremism of desire and death enable one to attain the truth.