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.

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

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

The pimp has a grin, never a smile.

Though they may not always be handsome men doomed to evil posses the manly virtues.

I recognize in thieves, traitors and murderers, in the ruthless and the cunning, a deep beauty - a sunken beauty.

There are mornings when all men experience with fatigue a flush of tenderness that makes them horny.