Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us.

Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us.

I think we all have a little bit of that beautiful madness that keeps us walking when everything around us is so insanely sane.

Only in dreams, in poetry, in play do we sometimes arrive at what we were before we were this thing that, who knows, we are.

The more a book is like an opium pipe, the more the Chinaman reader is satisfied with it and tends to discuss the quality of the drug rather than its lethargic effects.

Once in a while it happens that I vomit up a bunny... it's not reason for one to blush and isolate oneself and to walk around keeping one's mouth shut.

We no longer believe because it is absurd: it is absurd because we must believe.