For common minds have an ugly ability to perceive in the deepest and richest saying nothing but their own everyday opinion.

But I must finally realize that I am subject to these sudden transformations. The thing is that I rarely think; a crowd of small metamorphoses accumulate in me without my noticing it, and then, one fine day, a veritable revolution takes place.

At times discreetly, at times disgustingly, I yielded to the most fatal temptation whenever I could no longer bear it: as a result of impatience, Orpheus lost Eurydice; as a result of impatience, I lost myself.

What is not possible is not to choose.

When I can't see myself in the mirror, I can't even feel myself, and I begin to wonder if I exist at all.

I have no need for good souls: an accomplice is what I wanted.

I felt myself in a solitude so frightful that I contemplated suicide. What held me back was the idea that no one, absolutely no one, would be moved by my death, that I would be even more alone in death than in life.