“I found that what I had desired all my life was not to live - if what others are doing is called living - but to express myself.”
Don't expect me to be sane anymore. Don't let's be sensible. It was a marriage at Louveciennes - you can't dispute it. I came away with pieces of you sticking to me; I am walking about, swimming, in an ocean of blood, your Andalusian blood, distilled and poisonous. Everything I do and say and think relates back to the marriage. I saw you as the mistress of your home, a Moor with a heavy face, a negress with a white body, eyes all over your skin, woman, woman, woman. I can't see how I can go on l
And what is the potential man, after all? Is he not the sum of all that is human? Divine, in other words?
Any genuine philosophy leads to action and from action back again to wonder, to the enduring fact of mystery