Honest criticism means nothing: what one wants is unrestrained passion, fire for fire.

For the artist to attach himself to his work, or identify himself with it, is suicidal.

I found that what I had desired all my life was not to live - if what others are doing is called living - but to express myself.

I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit.

Develop an Interest in Life as you see it.

Surely every one realizes, at some point along the way, that he is capable of living a far better life than the one he has chosen.

What I secretly longed for was to disentangle myself of all those lives which had woven themselves into the pattern of my own life and were making my destiny a part of theirs. To shake myself free of these accumulating experiences which were mine only by force of inertia required a violent effort. Now and then I lunged and tore at the net, but only to become more enmeshed. My liberation seemed to involve pain and suffering to those near and dear to me. Every move I made for my own private good brought about reproach and condemnation. I was a traitor a thousand times over.