The fire you rubbed left its brand on the most vulnerable, most vicious and tender point of my body. Now I have to pay for your rasping the red rash too strongly, too soon, as charred wood has to pay for burning. When I remain without your caresses, I lose all control of my nerves, nothing exists any more than the ecstasy of friction, the abiding effect of your sting, of your delicious poison.

We loved each other with a premature love, marked by a fierceness that so often destroys adult lives.

Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece.

The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express is, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before.

She was like Marat only with nobody to kill her.

All colors made me happy: even gray. My eyes were such that literally they Took photographs.

No difference exists between American and European manners. A proletarian from Chicago can be just as Philistine as an English duke.