And a question stirred within me: What if he, this yellow-eyed creature, in his disorderly, filthy mound of leaves, in his uncomputed life, is happier than we are?

The whole world is one immense woman, and we are in her very womb, we are not yet born, we are joyfully ripening.

A man is like a novel: until the very last page you don't know how it will end. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth reading.

The speed of her tongue is not correctly calculated; the speed per second of her toungue should be slightly less than the speed per second of her thoughts -at any rate not the reverse.

The sun's champagne streamed from one body into another. And there was a couple on the green silk of the grass, covered by a raspberry umbrella. Only their feet and a little bit of lace could be seen. In the magnificent universe beneath the raspberry umbrella, with closed eyes, they drank in the sparkling madness. 'Extra! Extra! Zeppelins over the North Sea at 3 o'clock.' But under the umbrella, in the raspberry universe, they were immortal. What did it matter that in another far-away universe people would be killing each other?

Revolution is everywhere, in everything. There is no final revolution, no final number.

And everyone must lose his mind, everyone must! The sooner the better! It is essential — I know it.