Satire is a lesson, parody is a game.

And yet I am happy. Yes, happy. I swear. I swear that I am happy...What does it matter that I am a bit cheap, a bit foul, and that no one appreciates all the remarkable things about me-my fantasy, my erudition, my literary gift...I am happy that I can gaze at myself, for any man is absorbing-yes, really absorbing! ... I am happy-yes, happy!

I don't want an elderly gentleman from Vienna with an umbrella inflicting his dreams upon me.

I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist.

Most of the dandelions had changed from suns to moons.

The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.

I should allow only my heart to have imagination; and for the rest rely on memory, that long drawn sunset of one's personal truth.