Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me. I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
When you possess light within, you see it externally.
I want to love you wildly. I don’t want words, but inarticulate cries, meaningless, from the bottom of my most primitive being, that flow from my belly like honey. A piercing joy, that leaves me empty, conquered, silenced.
I love the abstract, delicate, profound, vague, voluptuously wordless sensation of living ecstatically.
There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do.
Whenever you do something that is not aligned with the yearning or your soul—you create suffering.
I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
What everyone forgets is that passion is not merely a heightened sensual fusion but a way of life which produces, as in the mystics, an ecstatic awareness of the whole of life.
I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.
Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.
The secret of joy is the mastery of pain.
Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.
With her eyes alone she could give this response, this absolutely erotic response, as if febrile waves were trembling there, pools of madness... something devouring that could lick a man all over like a flame, annihilate him, with a pleasure never known before.
Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.
I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.
My life is not possible to tell. I change every day, change my patterns, my concepts, my interpretations. I am a series of moods and sensations. I play a thousand roles. I weep when I find others play them for me. My real self is unknown. My work is merely an essence of this vast and deep adventure.
The self is merely the lens through which we see others and the world.
What we call our destiny is truly our character and that character can be altered. The knowledge that we are responsible for our actions and attitudes does not need to be discouraging, because it also means that we are free to change this destiny. One is not in bondage to the past, which has shaped our feelings, to race, inheritance, background. All this can be altered if we have the courage to examine how it formed us. We can alter the chemistry provided we have the courage to dissect the elements.
We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art--we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.
I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.
I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.
Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves.
We have been poisoned by fairy tales.
it was while helping others to be free that I gained my own freedom.
To withhold from living is to die ... the more you give of yourself to life the more life nourishes you.
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