He Has, Like Me, A Sense Of

I Know No Joy As Great As A Moment Of Rushing Into A New Love, No Ecstasy Like That Of A New Love.

He Does Not Need Opium. He Has The Gift Of Reverie.

Eroticism Is One Of The Basic Means Of Self-knowledge, As Indispensable As Poetry.

I Write Emotional Algebra.

I Like Extravagance. Letters Which Give The Postman A Stiff Back To Carry, Books Which Overflow From Their Covers, Sexuality Which Bursts The Thermometers.