All my life I have been haunted by the obsession that to desire a thing or to love a thing intensely is to place yourself in a vulnerable position, to be a possible, if not a probable, loser of what you most want. Let's leave it like that.
You take it for granted that I am in something that I want to get out of.
Men don't want anything they get too easy. But on the other hand, men lose interest quickly.
Nobody knew my rose of the world but me... I had too much glory. They don't want glory like that in nobody's heart
I've got the guts to die. What I want to know is, have you got the guts to live?
These are the intensities that one cannot live with, that he has to outgrow if he wants to survive. But who can help grieving for them? If the blood vessels could hold them, how much better to keep those early loves with us?
I don't want realism. I want magic!