I Have Need Of Angels. Enough Hell

It Is Thus That The Few Rare Lucid Well-disposed People Who Have Had To Struggle On The Earth Find Themselves At Certain Hours Of The Day Or Night In The Depth Of Certain Authentic And Waking Nightmare States, Surrounded By The Formidable Suction, The Formidable Oppression Of A Kind Of Civic Magic Which Will Soon Be Seen Appearing Openly In Social Behavior.

There Are Those Who Go To The Theatre As They Would Go To A Brothel.

Tragedy On The Stage Is No Longer Enough For Me, I Shall Bring It Into My Own Life.

If I Commit Suicide, It Will Not Be To Destroy Myself But To Put Myself Back Together Again.

I Would Like To Write A Book Which Would Drive Men Mad, Which Would Be Like An Open Door Leading Them Where They Would Never Have Consented To Go, In Short, A Door That Opens Onto Reality.