The Only Abnormality Is The Incapacity To

The One Who Travels Like A Lover Searching For A New Passion Is Suddenly Blessed With New Eyes, New Ears, New Senses.

But I Lie. I Embellish. My Words Are Not Deep Enough. They Disguise, They Conceal. I Will Not Rest Until I Have Told Of My Descent Into A Sensuality Which Was As Dark, As Magnificent, As Wild, As My Moments Of Mystic Creation Have Been Dazzling, Ecstatic, Exalted.

Everything But Happiness Is Neurosis.

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

The Bed Must Be A Beautiful Place, Not Only Because You Make Love There But Because You Dream There As Well.