A vacuum is a hell of a lot better than some of the stuff that nature replaces it with.

We are all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins, for life.

It is only in his work that an artist can find reality and satisfaction, for the actual world is less intense than the world of his invention and consequently his life, without recourse to violent disorder, does not seem very substantial. The right condition for him is that in which his work in not only convenient but unavoidable.

I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really.

Hysteria is a natural phenomenon, the common denominator of the female nature. It's the female weapon and the test of a man is his ability to cope with it.

It's hard enough for me to write what I want to write without me trying to write what you say they want me to write which I don't want to write.

A man, when he burns, leaves only a handful of ashes. No woman can hold him. The wind must blow him away.