Poetry Is What Happens When An Anxiety

There Is No Pain Compared To That Of Loving A Woman Who Makes Her Body Accessible To One And Yet Who Is Incapable Of Delivering Her True Self -- Because She Does Not Know Where To Find It.

It’s Only With Great Vulgarity That You Can Achieve Real Refinement, Only Out Of Bawdry That You Can Get Tenderness.

Truth Is A Woman. That Is Why It Is Enigmatic.

It Is Not Peace We Seek But Meaning.

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.