You fall in love with people's minds.
I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.
I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.
People living deeply have no fear of death.
To withhold from living is to die ... the more you give of yourself to life the more life nourishes you.
Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live.
I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.
I find that life, day by day, is composed of at least one joy, one problem and one sorrow. Then there are the smaller ingredients: you always learn something, whether useful or harmful - that is difficult to analyze until later; you always give something; you alwayou always grow a little in one direction or another.
You live out the confusions until they become clear.
For you and for me the highest moment, the keenest joy, is not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds, and you and I both lose it in the same way, through love.
Your eyes make me shy
Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.
Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.
When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow.
There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do.
The theme of the diary is always the personal, but it does not mean only a personal story: it means a personal relationship to all things and people. The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic; I never generalize, intellectualise. I see, I hear, I feel. These are my primitive elements of discovery. Music, dance, poetry and painting are the channels for emotion. It is through them that experience penetrates our bloodstream.
Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go.
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.
To change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one's mind and psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use.
You must not fear, hold back, count or be a miser with your thoughts and feelings. It is also true that creation comes from an overflow, so you have to learn to intake, to imbibe, to nourish yourself and not be afraid of fullness. The fullness is like a tidal wave which then carries you, sweeps you into experience and into writing.
The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.
The secret of life was Breath. That was what I always wanted my words to do, to Breathe.
There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work.
The bed must be a beautiful place, not only because you make love there but because you dream there as well.
Through love, through friendship, a heart lives more than one life.
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