Anyone who knows a strange fact shares in its singularity.

What we need is hatred. From it our ideas are born.

Beauty has no other origin than the singular wound, different in every case, hidden or visible, which each man bears within himself, which he preserves, and into which he withdraws when he would quit the world for a temporary but authentic solitude

We know that their adventures are childish. They themselves are fools. They are ready to kill or be killed over a card-game in which an opponent - or they themselves - was cheating. Yet, thanks to such fellows, tragedies are possible.

...beauty is the projection of ugliness and by developing certain monstrosities we obtain the purest ornaments.

The vaporish cocaine loosens the contours of their lives and sets their bodies adrift, and so they are untouchable.

Violence is a calm that disturbs you.