“The artistic life is a long, lovely suicide.”

“Where are the messy women who love the fragile boys.Where are the suicides who are my heroes.Where are the bitches who know what they want, who love what they do, bosomy and declarative, happy to be artistic in this stupid night.”

“...the art of living involves the act of creation. The work of art is nothing. It is only the tangible, visible evidence of a way of life, which, if it is not crazy is certainly different from the accepted way of life... For the artist to attach himself to his work, or identify himself with it, is suicidal.”

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist palette which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.”

“Life is a suicide mission.”

“...we ask: Why suicide? We search for reasons, causes, and so on.... We follow the course of the life he has now so suddenly terminated as far back as we can. For days we are preoccupied with the question: Why suicide? We recollect details. And yet we must say that everything in the suicide's life- for now we know that all his life he was a suicide, led a suicide's existence- is part of the cause, the reason, for his suicide.”