God cannot catch us. Unless we stay in the unconscious room. Of our hearts.
What appears in newspapers is often new but seldom true.
On the stem of memory imaginations blossom.
There is something wrong with a work of art if it can be understood by a policeman.
It often occurs to me that we love most what makes us miserable. In my opinion the damned are damned because they enjoy being damned.
We are not alone in our loneliness, others have been here and known griefs we thought our special own.