“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”


What difference does it make after all? — anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven, for what’s heaven? what’s earth?
The only people that interest me are the mad ones.

“The only people that interest me are the mad ones. The ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like roman candles across the night.”