...beauty is the projection of ugliness and by developing certain monstrosities we obtain the purest ornaments.
The pimp has a grin, never a smile.
My heart's in my hand, and my hand is pierced, and my hand's in the bag, and the bag is shut, and my heart is caught.
They spent their time doing nothing... they let intimacy fuse them.
I give the name violence to a boldness lying idle and enamored of danger.
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