In two weeks, despite these notes, I shall no longer believe in what I am experiencing now. One must leave behind a trace of this journey which memory forgets. One must, when this is impossible, write or draw without responding to the romantic solicitations of pain, without enjoying suffering like music, tieing a pen to one's foot if need be, helping the doctors who can learn nothing from laziness.

A picture is not a window...an abstract refers to no reality but its own.

Cultivate everything the critics hated in your first work - that's what makes you unique.

History is a combination of reality and lies. The reality of History becomes a lie. The unreality of the fable becomes the truth.

There's no such thing as love; only proof of love.

I am burning myself up and will always do so.

After the writer's death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.