What You Burnt, Broke, And Tore Is

I Miss The Animal Buoyancy Of New York, The Animal Vitality. I Did Not Mind That It Had No Meaning And No Depth.

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

The Monster I Kill Every Day Is The Monster Of Realism. The Monster Who Attacks Me Every Day Is Destruction. Out Of The Duel Comes The Transformation. I Turn Destruction Into Creation Over And Over Again.

I Reserve The Right To Love Many Different People At Once, And To Change My Prince Often.

When I Don't Write, I Feel My World Shrink. I Lose My Fire, My Color.