Modesty is Vanity's craftier stepbrother.
I want to paint the way a bird sings.
Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand$$$ as if it were necessary to understand$$$ when it is simply necessary to love.
For me$$$ beauty is always retreating from ones grasp: the only thing I consider important is what existed once$$$ or ought to have existed.
I still have no way to survive but to keep writing one line$$$ one more line$$$ one more line...
Had you been able to guess bits of my destiny$$$<br/>Perhaps you would bear your mediocrity with more ease.
If there is no God$$$ not everything is permitted to man. He is still his brother's keeper and he is not permitted to sadden his brother$$$ by saying there is no God.
I am not my own friend. Time cuts me in two.
It is impossible to communicate to people who have not experienced it$$$ the undefinable menace of total rationalism.
All was taken away from you: white dresses$$$ wings$$$ even existence.