The moment that you place blame somewhere, you undermine your resolve to change anything.

The surest defense against Evil is extreme individualism, originality of thinking, whimsicality, even - if you will - eccentricity. That is, something that can't be feigned, faked, imitated; something even a seasoned imposter couldn't be happy with.

Perhaps art is simply an organism's reaction against its retentive limitations.

Love itself is the most elitist of passions. It acquires its stereoscopic substance and perspective only in the context of culture, for it takes up more place in the mind than it does in bed. Outside of that setting it falls flat into one-dimensional fiction.

Poetry is rather an approach to things, to life, than it is typographical production.

For darkness restores what light cannot repair.

I don't have principles. I have nerves.