I feel half faded away like some figure in the background of an old picture.

All art deals with the absurd and aims at the simple. Good art speaks truth, indeed is truth, perhaps the only truth.

Art is brief. (Not in a temporal sense.) [...] Words are for concealment. Art is concealment.

Jealousy comes from self-love rather than from true love.

No love is entirely without worth, even when the frivolous calls to the frivolous and the base to the base.

Love can't always do work. Sometimes it just has to look into the darkness.

How rarely can happiness be really innocent and not triumphant, not an insult to the deprived.