One can hear all that's going on in the street. Which means that from the street one can hear what's going on in this house.

In reviewing my life, in tracing its course, I fill my cell with the pleasure of being what for want of a trifle I failed to be, recapturing, so that I may hurl myself into them as into dark pits, those moments when I strayed through the trap-ridden compartments of a subterranean sky

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

The fame of heroes owes little to the extent of their conquests and all to the success of the tributes paid to them.

Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all.

Slowly but surly I want to strip her of every kind of happiness as to make a saint of her.

The pimp has a grin, never a smile.