Artists never make wars. They are too busy making life out of the matter of their visions.

The curse of the romantic is a greed for dreams, an intensity of expectation that, in the end, diminishes the reality.

It's never what you say, but how you make it sound sincere.

The right to choose death when life no longer holds meaning is not only the next liberation but the last human right.

Minds are cluttered from the age of six with the values of others-values which bear little relation to their own private capacities, needs and desires.

A man at his desk in a room with a closed door is a man at work. A woman at a desk in any room is available.

One is as one is, and the love that can't encompass both is a poor sort of love.