I Spent The Whole Evening Sitting Before

A Decision, An Action, Are Infallible Omens Of What We Shall Do Another Time, Not For Any Vague, Mystic, Astrological Reason But Because They Result From An Automatic Reaction That Will Repeat Itself.

One Does Not Kill Oneself For Love Of A Woman, But Because Love - Any Love - Reveals Us In Our Nakedness, Our Misery, Our Vulnerability, Our Nothingness.

Artists Are The Monks Of The Bourgeois State.

You Will Hear Words Old And Spent And Useless Like Costumes Left Over From Yesterday's Parties.

Nowadays, Suicide Is Just A Way Of Disappearing. It Is Carried Out Timidly, Quietly, And Falls Flat. It Is No Longer An Action, Only A Submission.