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.