To write is your last resort when you’ve betrayed someone.
A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.
One can hear all that’s going on in the street. Which means that from the street one can hear what’s going on in this house.
You must now go home, where everything — you can be quite sure — will be falser than here….You must go now. You’ll leave by the right, through the alley….
We are the ink that gives the white page a meaning.
Though they may not always be handsome men doomed to evil posses the manly virtues.
Added to the moral solitude of the murderer comes the solitude of the artist, which can acknowledge no authority, save that of another artist.
By dint of saying that I’m not alive, I accept the fact that people cease to regard me.
Repudiating the virtues of your world, criminals hopelessly agree to organize a forbidden universe. They agree to live in it. The air there is nauseating: they can breathe it.
on him, under him, with his mouth pressed to hers, he sang to her uncouth songs that moved through her body.
Worse than not realizing the dreams of your youth, would be to have been young and never dreamed at all.
I recognize in thieves, traitors and murderers, in the ruthless and the cunning, a deep beauty – a sunken beauty.
The fame of heroes owes little to the extent of their conquests and all to the success of the tributes paid to them.