Comedians Are The Nearest To Suicide.

I See Artists As A Great Battalion Moving Through Paint, Words, Music Towards Cosmological Interpretation.

No One Can Go On Being A Rebel Too Long Without Turning Into An Autocrat.

The Loved Object Is Simply One That Has Shared An Experience At The Same Moment Of Time, Narcissistically; And The Desire To Be Near The Beloved Object Is At First Not Due To The Idea Of Possessing It, But Simply To Let The Two Experiences Compare Themselves, Like Reflections In Different Mirrors. All This May Precede The First Look, Kiss, Or Touch; Precede Ambition, Pride, Or Envy; Precede The First Declarations Which Mark The Turning Point—for From Here Love Degenerates Into Habit, Possession, And Back To Loneliness.

A Taste Older Than Meat, Older Than Wine. A Taste As Old As Cold Water.

A Diary Is The Last Place To Go If You Wish To Seek The Truth About A Person. Nobody Dares To Make The Final Confession To Themselves On Paper: Or At Least, Not About Love.