bird diviner

In what will survive me I am in harmony with my annihilation.

"The need to go astray, to be destroyed, is an extremely private, distant, passionate, turbulent truth."

 A glorious little suffering has just been born, an exemplary suffering. Four notes on the saxophone. They come and go, they seem to say: You must be like us, suffer in rhythm. 

...I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire... I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.

I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can’t help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year.

"Myth is not prehistory; it is timeless reality, which repeats itself in history."

I'm going to smile, and my smile will sink down into your pupils, and heaven knows what it will become.

"A book is not an isolated being: it is a relationship, an axis of innumerable relationships."

"We want to decipher skies and paintings, go behind these starry backgrounds or these painted canvases and, like kids trying to find a gap in a fence, try to look through the cracks in the world."

The same feeling of not belonging, of futility, wherever I go: I pretend interest in what matters nothing to me, I bestir myself mechanically or out of charity, without ever being caught up, without ever being somewhere. What attracts me is elsewhere, and I don’t know where that elsewhere is.

“What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?”