I decided to be what crime made of me.

Erotic play discloses a nameless world which is revealed by the nocturnal language of lovers. Such language is not written down. It is whispered into the ear at night in a hoarse voice. At dawn it is forgotten.

Creation is not a light-hearted game. The creator commits to a terrible adventure, which is to take up-on himself all of the dangers that his creatures run.

I'm homosexual. How and why are idle questions. It's a little like wanting to know why my eyes are green.

Every premeditated murder is always governed by a preparatory ceremonial and is always followed by a propitiatory ceremonial. The meaning of both eludes the murderers mind.

I could not take lightly the idea that people made love without me.

A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.