It sometimes happens that pleasure blows anywhere it damn well chooses.

Your imagination, my dear fellow, is worth more than you imagine.

As if one could do what one wanted with one's own body!

Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be in a crowd, but in an oblivious crowd.

Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash.

Yes, I read. I have that absurd habit. I like beautiful poems, moving poetry, and all the beyond of that poetry. I am extraordinarily sensitive to those poor, marvelous words left in our dark night by a few men I never knew.

That you are not already golden word in our streets Already memories Your love fades Already Whether you are no longer to have perished.