Since obscenity is the truth of our passion today, it is the only stuff of art - or almost the only stuff.

The bourgeois produces the bolshevist, inevitably as every half-truth at length produces the contradiction of itself in the opposite half-truth.

Art-speech is the only truth. An artist is usually a damned liar, but his art, if it be art, will tell you the truth of his day. And that is all that matters. Away with eternal truth.

Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion.

Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot.

We fucked a flame into being.