Energy moves in waves. Waves move in patterns. Patterns move in rhythms. A human being is just that energy, waves, patterns, rhythms. Nothing more. Nothing less. A dance.
Paint, not the thing but the effect which it produces.
It is in front of the the paper that the artist creates himself.
As for me, Poetry takes the place of love, because it is enamored of itself, and because this self-lust has a delightful dying fall in my soul.
Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.
The world exists to end up in a book.
Every soul is a melody which needs renewing.
I thought, how do you confuse violent Russian mobsters? Well, by being silly!
I wanted her to to go on talking and understand without me saying anything. I wanted her to love me enough to leave him, to pack us up and take us away from him, to kill him if need be. (107)
Sentimentalism is the working off on yourself of feelings you haven't really got.
Every breath you take, you are getting closer to the grave. But every breath you take, you can also get closer to your liberation.