Eroticism Cannot Be Entirely Revealed Without Poetry.

But A Sort Of Rupture-in Anguish-leaves Us At The Limit Of Tears: In Such A Case We Lose Ourselves, We Forget Ourselves And Communicate With An Elusive Beyond.

I Teach The Art Of Turning Anguish Into Delight.

Sanity Is The Lot Of Those Who Are Most Obtuse, For Lucidity Destroys One's Equilibrium: It Is Unhealthy To Honestly Endure The Labors Of The Mind Which Incessantly Contradict What They Have Just Established.

The Anguish Of The Neurotic Individual Is The Same As That Of The Saint. The Neurotic, The Saint Are Engaged In The Same Battle. Their Blood Flows From Similar Wounds. But The First One Gasps And The Other One Gives.

Literature ... Is The Rediscovery Of Childhood.