The danger, when not too dangerous, fascinate.

It hurts to love. It's like giving yourself to be flayed and knowing that at any moment the other person may just walk off with your skin.

I write - and talk - in order to find out what I think.

It is easier to endure than to change. But once one has changed, what was endured is hard to recall.

Experiences aren't pornographic; only images and representations - structures of the imagination - are.

The hard truth is that what may be acceptable in elite culture may not be acceptable in mass culture, that tastes which pose only innocent ethical issues as the property of a minority become corrupting when they become more established. Taste is context, and the context has changed.

In NY sensuality completely turns into sexuality - no objects for the senses to respond to, no beautiful river, houses, people. Awful smells of the street, and dirt... Nothing except eating, if that, and the frenzy of the bed.