on him, under him, with his mouth pressed to hers, he sang to her uncouth songs that moved through her body.

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

It's the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go.

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

Perhaps all music, even the newest, is not so much something discovered as something that re-emerges from where it lay buried in the memory, inaudible as a melody cut in a disc of flesh. A composer lets me hear a song that has always been shut up silent within me.

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.

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