Solitude May Rust Your Words.

I Am In Great Terror Of Your Understanding By Which You Penetrate Into My World; And Then I Stand Revealed And I Have Shared My Kingdom With You.

The Way To Recognize A Dead Word Is That It Exudes Boredom.

Anything I Can Not Transform Into Something Marvelous, I Let Go.

The Self Is Merely The Lens Through Which We See Others And The World.

I Want To Hear Raucous Music, To See Faces, To Brush Against Bodies, To Drink Fiery Benedictine. Beautiful Women And Handsome Men Arouse Fierce Desires In Me. I Want To Dance. I Want Drugs. I Want To Know Perverse People, To Be Intimate With Them. I Never Look At Naive Faces. I Want To Bite Into Life, And To Be Torn By It.