Our Element Is Unending Immaturity.

Against The Background Of General Freakishness The Case Of My Particular Freakishness Was Lost.

Serious Literature Does Not Exist To Make Life Easy But To Complicate It.

If He [the Artist] Were To Take Up The Pen It Would Be...to Better Express His Individuality And Explain It To Others; Or Else To Put His Internal Affairs In Order...to Deepen And Sharpen His Relationship With His Fellow Men Because Other Souls Exert An Immense And Creative Influence On Our Soul; Or To Try To Fight For A World As He Would Like It To Be, For A World That Is Indispensable To His Life.

Beauty Beheld In Solitude Is Even More Lethal.

You Are Ugly When You Love Her, You Are Beautiful And Fresh, Vital And Free, Modern And Poetic When You Don't... You Are More Beautiful As An Orphan Than As Your Mother's Son.