At The Age Of Six I Wanted

Let The Labyrinth Of Wrinkles Be Furrowed In My Brow With The Red-hot Iron Of My Own Life, Let My Hair Whiten And My Step Become Vacillating, On Condition That I Can Save The Intelligence Of My Soul - Let My Unformed Childhood Soul, As It Ages, Assume The Rational And Esthetic Forms Of An Architecture, Let Me Learn Just Everything That Others Cannot Teach Me, What Only Life Would Be Capable Of Marking Deeply In My Skin!

Genius Has To Pass Over Madness And Madness Over Genius

I Dedicate This Novel To Gala, Who Was Constantly By My Side While I Was Writing It, Who Was The Good Fairy Of My Equilibrium, Who Banished The Salamanders Of My Doubts And Strengthened The Lions Of Certainties.

There Is Only One Difference Between A Madman And Me. The Madman Thinks He Is Sane. I Know I Am Mad.

We Are All Hungry And Thirsty For Concrete Images.