Alas! I do not believe that inspiration falls from heaven. think it rather the result of a profound indolence.

Expect neither reward nor beatitude. Return noble waves for ignoble.

The audience bursts into laughter. With the tragic gag I don't expect the audience to laugh (if they do, I have failed) but I expect a black silence from them that is almost as violent: as laughter.

Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying.

A man's truest self realizations might require him, above all, to learn to close his eyes: to let himself be taken unawares, to follow his dark angel, to risk his illegal instincts.

Perhaps I know to what extent I can go too far.

Without opium, plans, marriages and journeys appear to me just as foolish as if someone falling out of a window were to hope to make friends with the occupants of the room before which he passes.