I too love everything that flows: rivers, sewers, lava, semen, blood, bile, words, sentences. I love the amniotic fluid when it spills out of the bag. I love the kidney with it's painful gall-stones, it's gravel and what-not; I love the urine that pours out scalding and the clap that runs endlessly; I love the words of hysterics and the sentences that flow on like dysentery and mirror all the sick images of the soul.

Day by day. No yesterdays and no tomorrows. The barometer never changes, the flag is always at half-mast.

Surrealism is merely the reflection of the death process. It is one of the manifestations of a life becoming extinct, a virus which quickens the inevitable end.

The real leader has no need to lead - he is content to point the way.

The essential thing is to WANT to sing. This then is a song. I am singing.

Part of the act of creating is in discovering your own kind. They are everywhere. But don't look for them in the wrong places.

I saw through to the last sign and symbol, but I could not read her face. I could see only the eyes shining through, huge, fleshy-like luminous beasts, as though I were swimming behind them in the electric effluvia of her incandescent vision.