“Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and from others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real, and I can't vent any anger against them. I only feel this appalling sadness. Somewhere, in their upbringing, they were shielded against the total facts of our existence. They were only taught to look one way when many ways exist.”

“few writers like other writers' works. The only time they like them is when they are dead or if they have been for a long time. Writers only like to sniff their own turds. I am one of those. I don't even like to talk to writers, look at them or worse, listen to them. And the worst is to drink with them, they slobber all over themselves, really look piteous, look like they are searching for the wing of the mother.I'd rather think about death than about other writers. Far more pleasant.”

“I didn't feel that way about it. I had been playing with death for some time. I can't say we were the best of friends but we were well acquainted.”

“Each person is only given so many evenings and each wasted evening is a gross violation against the natural course of your only life.”

“it was like any other relationship, there wasjealousy on both sides,there were split-ups and reconciliations.there were also fragmented moments ofgreat peace and beauty.I often tried to get away from her andshe tied to get away from mebut it was difficult:Cupid, in his strange way, was reallythere.”

“Nothing against the law ever cease to exist.”

“Where did all the women come from? The supply was endless. Each one of them was individual, different. Their pussies were different, their kisses were different, their breasts were different, but no man could drink them all, there were too many of them, crossing their legs, driving men mad. What a feast!”