“It was the voice of mad seas, roaring immense, That shattered your infant breast, too soft, too human.”

I may die of earthly love, or of devotion.

Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.

I am alone in possessing a key to this barbarous sideshow.

I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.

But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.

I wrote silences; nights; I recorded the unnameable.

One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.

What an old maid I’m getting to be. Lacking the courage to be in love with death!

Only divine love bestows the keys of knowledge.

The Sun, the hearth of affection and life, pours burning love on the delighted earth.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.

Once, if I remember well, my life was a feast where all hearts opened and all wines flowed.

You feel on your lips a kiss Fluttering, a tiny scrap of life.

As for me, I am intact; and I don’t care.

The poet makes himself a voyant through a long, immense reasoned deranging of all his senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he tries to find himself, he exhausts in himself all the poisons, to keep only their quintessences.

When a mother asks for a second child her body forgets the pain of the first. When I give you a second chance my heart is being forgetful.

Squeeze my nipples when you ride me to make sure that we both pour out all over our bodies togetherness.

Love should be the silver thread that runs through all your conduct.

I think women’s bodies are a battleground and photography is partly to blame. Our society is so photographic now, it becomes more difficult to see all of those different varieties of shape.

I don’t have a problem with my body. I’m not just going to strip off all my clothing, but if the part calls for it and I don’t think there’s any way round, I’m absolutely fine.

Everyone is saying that I’m retiring, but I want to solemnly declare, that I don’t want to retire, I just want to do things a bit less dangerous to my body, less dangerous action.

It must not content us to take our bodies to church if we leave our hearts at home.

An ‘I’ without a body is a possibility. But a body without an ‘I’ is utterly impossible.