Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be...including our perception. Of it
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.
Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.
The real wonders of life lie in the depths. Exploring the depths for truths is the real wonder which the child and the artist know: magic and power lie in truth.
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.
We have been poisoned by fairy tales.
When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others.
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.
Sometimes we reveal ourselves when we are least like ourselves.
Things aren't the way they are, they're the way you are
The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.
When others asked the truth of me, I was convinced it was not the truth they wanted, but an illusion they could bear to live with.
We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.
it was while helping others to be free that I gained my own freedom.
I don't tell the truth any more to those who can't make use of it. I tell it mostly to myself, because it always changes me.
I don't wish power, only art -art and passion.
Stories are the only enchantment possible, for when we begin to see our suffering as a story, we are saved.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source.
The source of sexual power is curiosity, passion. You are watching its little flame die of asphyxiation. Sex does not thrive on monotony. Without feeling, inventions, moods, no surprises in bed. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all of the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.
The enemy of a love is never outside, it's not a man or woman, it's what we lack in ourselves.
I love your silences, they are like mine.
I only believe in fire. Life. Fire. Being myself on fire I set others on fire. Never death. Fire and life.
You carry away with you a reflection of me, a part of me. I dreamed you; I wished for your existence. You will always be a part of my life. If I love you, it must be because we shared, at some moment, the same imaginings, the same madness, the same stage.
I believe the lasting revolution comes from deep changes in ourselves which influence our collective life.
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