It Is Clear That The

Incredible Nervous State, Trepidation Beyond Words: To Be This Much In Love Is To Be Sick (and I Love To Be Sick).

Sacrifice Is Nothing Other Than The Production Of Sacred Things.

Inner Experience ... Is Not Easily Accessible And, Viewed From The Outside By Intelligence, It Would Even Be Necessary To See In It A Sum Of Distinct Operations, Some Intellectual, Others Aesthetic, Yet Others Moral. ... It Is Only From Within, Lived To The Point Of Terror, That It Appears To Unify That Which Discursive Thought Must Separate.

The Need To Go Astray, To Be Destroyed, Is An Extremely Private, Distant, Passionate, Turbulent Truth.

Not Every Woman Is A Prostitute, But Prostitution Is The Natural Apotheosis Of The Feminine Attitude.