Solitude May Rust Your Words.

I Postpone Death By Living, By Suffering, By Error, By Risking, By Giving, By Losing.

I Love Her For What She Has Dared To Be, For Her Hardness, Her Cruelty, Her Egoism, Her Perverseness, Her Demoniac Destructiveness. She Would Crush Me To Ashes Without Hesitation. She Is A Personality Created To The Limit. I Worship Her Courage To Hurt, And I Am Willing To Be Sacrificed To It. She Will Add The Sum Of Me To Her. She Will Be June Plus All That I Contain.

When One Is Pretending The Entire Body Revolts.

Most Artists Have Retired Too Absolutely; They Grow Rusty, Inflexible To The Flow Of Currents.

Travel Is Seeking The Lost Paradise. It Is The Supreme Illusion Of Love.