I actually get venereal disease more often than most people catch colds.

Sometimes my heart hurts so much, I beat it with my fists. I try to run. But you cannot run from this. It waits for you. Even when you think you have escaped it, it is there.

I've solved the mystery: You have to submit silently. Open up, let go. Let anything penetrate you, even the most painful things. Endure. Bear up. That's the magic key! The text comes by itself, and its meaning shakes the soul. You mustn't let scar tissue form on your wounds; you have to keep ripping them open in order to turn your insides into a marvelous instrument that is capable of anything. All this has its price.

In a way, everything concerning a movie leaves me cold.

I could be with a woman in a bed, for weeks even, and it would seem to me like three seconds. Or 300 years.

I didn't want to be alone, but I had to learn that the dimensions of my feelings are too violent. I had to learn this.

The flamenco of the Gypsy has nothing to do with the flamenco for tourists. Real flamenco is like sex.