Perversity is the muse of modern literature.

Art is seduction, not rape.

Everything has changed and nothing is changed.

But I cannot forgive those who did not care about more than their own glory or well-being. They thought they were civilized. They were despicable. Damn them all.

It's so effortless to let my loneliness defeat me, make me mold myself to whatever would (in some way - but not wholly) relieve it. I must never forget it... I want sensuality and sensitivity, both... Let me never deny that... I want to err on the side of violence and excess, rather than to underfill my moments.

I must remain always, both in principle + actively, interested in everything. Taking all of knowledge as my province.

In the final analysis, style is art. And art is nothing more or less than various modes of stylized, dehumanized representation.