Nunca he escrito para que sea bonito o para hacer una frase bella. Lo que yo escojo es la frase justa.

I realize that I have left part of myself in a place where I shall probably never come back.

To grow old is to fade, to become transparent.

Sometimes I wonder if the purpose of my writing is to find out whether other people have done or felt the same things or, if not, for them to consider experiencing such things as normal. Maybe I would also like them to live out these very emotions in turn, forgetting that they had once read about them somewhere.

To exist is to drink oneself without thirst.

Maybe the true purpose of my life is for my body, my sensations and my thoughts to become writing, in other words, something intelligible and universal, causing my existence to merge into the lives and heads of other people.

Pain cannot be kept intact, it needs to be “processed,” converted into humor.

She teaches me that the world is made to be pounced on and enjoyed, and that there is absolutely no reason at all to hold back.

Je ne suis nulle part dans le temps. Il est l'ange qui fait revivre le passé, rend éternel.

Sentiment d'être composée de multiples morceaux de femmes; il y a en moi de la Dalida, Yourcenar, Beauvoir, Colette, etc... même Sand.