Desire can attain the darkest human terror and give an actual ideal of hell and its horror.

You're obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack all foundation.

Murder is born of love, and love attains the greatest intensity in murder.

Come now, don't make such a funeral face. It isn't dying that's sad; it's living when you're not happy.

Nature’s constantly screaming with all its shapes and scents: love each other! Love each other! Do as the flowers. There’s only love.

There is a diabolical streak in me, a troublesome and inexplicable perversity.

When one tears away the veils and shows them naked, people's souls give off such a pungent smell of decay.