Anyone who's never experienced the pleasure of betrayal doesn't know what pleasure is.

Added to the moral solitude of the murderer comes the solitude of the artist, which can acknowledge no authority, save that of another artist.

Betrayal is beautiful.

Men endowed with a wild imagination should have, in addition, the great poetic faculty of denying our universe and its values so that they may act upon it with sovereign ease.

Love makes use of the worst traps. The least noble. The rarest. It exploits coincidence.

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.

Anyone who's never experienced the pleasure of betrayal doesn't know what pleasure is.