Life Consists Of Burning Up Questions.

Excuse My Absolute Freedom. I Refuse To Make A Distinction Between Any Of The Moments Of Myself.

This Is Why True Beauty Never Strikes Us Directly. The Setting Sun Is Beautiful Because Of All It Makes Us Lose.

I Know Each Conversation With A Psychiatrist In The Morning Made Me Want To Hang Myself Because I Knew I Could Not Strangle Him.

I Would Like To Write A Book Which Would Drive Men Mad, Which Would Be Like An Open Door Leading Them Where They Would Never Have Consented To Go, In Short, A Door That Opens Onto Reality.

Not Once More Will/i Be Found With Beings/who Swallowed The Rail Of Life//and One Day I Found Myself With Beings/who Swallowed The Nail Of Life/-as Soon As I Lost My Matrix Mamma,//and The Being Twisted Under Him,/and God Poured Me Back To Her/(the Motherfucker).