Everything is an illusion.

Death is nothing, nor life either, for that matter. To die, to sleep, to pass into nothingness, what does it matter? Everything is an illusion.
MATA HARI

Death Illusion Life Sleep
Everything is an illusion.
MATA HARI

Illusion One Liner
I have encountered in this world riff-raff and good people. I lose. I win. I defend myself when I am attacked. I take when someone has taken from me. But I beg you to believe me; I have never done an act of espionage against France. Never. Never.
MATA HARI

Believe Encounter Goodness Myself People World
I was not content at home. . . I wanted to live like a colorful butterfly in the sun.
MATA HARI

Butterfly Content Home Live
My dance is a sacred poem in which each movement is a word and whose every word is underlined by music. The temple in which I dance can be vague or faithfully reproduced, for I am the temple.
MATA HARI

Dance Faith Movement Music Myself Poem Sacred
The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word.
MATA HARI

Dance Movement Poem Word
I am a woman who enjoys herself very much; sometimes I lose, sometimes I win.
MATA HARI

Enjoyment Lose Myself Time Woman

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