Life has always taken place in a tumult without apparent cohesion, but it only finds its grandeur and its reality in ecstasy and in ecstatic love.
Sovereignty, loyalty, and solitude.
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.
Indeed, the direction of the future is only there in order to elude us.
Eroticism is assenting to life even in death.