I Am The Soul In Limbo.

Leave Everything. Leave Dada. Leave Your Wife. Leave Your Mistress. Leave Your Hopes And Fears. Leave Your Children In The Woods. Leave The Substance For The Shadow. Leave Your Easy Life, Leave What You Are Given For The Future. Set Off On The Roads.

Who Am I? If This Once I Were To Rely On A Proverb, Then Perhaps Everything Would Amount To Knowing Whom I 'haunt.'

It Is Impossible For Me To Envisage A Picture As Being Other Than A Window, And Why My First Concern Is Then To Know What It Looks Out On.

We All Love Conflagrations. When The Sky Changes Color, It Is A Dead Man's Passing.

Beauty Is Like A Train That Ceaselessly Roars Out Of The Gare De Lyon And Which I Know Will Never Leave, Which Has Not Left. It Consists Of Jolts And Shocks, Many Of Which Do Not Have Much Importance, But Which We Know Are Destined To Produce One Shock, Which Does...the Human Heart, Beautiful As A Seismograph...beauty Will Be Convulsive Or Will Not Be At All.