The pimp has a grin, never a smile.

It was the first time I saw the look on the face of the people I robbed: it was ugly. I was the cause of such ugliness, and the only thing that made me feel...

Repudiating the virtues of your world, criminals hopelessly agree to organize a forbidden universe. They agree to live in it. The air there is nauseating: they can breathe it.

To write is your last resort when you’ve betrayed someone.

Dzięki temu,że powiedział mi,iż nie żyję,pogodziłem się z faktem,że ludzie wyrzucili mnie ze swoich myśli

A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.

Betrayal is beautiful.

I want to fulfill myself in one of the rarest of destinies. I have only a dim notion of what it will be. I want it to have not a graceful curve slightly bent toward...

By dint of saying that I’m not alive, I accept the fact that people cease to regard me.

It’s a true image, born of a false spectacle.

on him, under him, with his mouth pressed to hers, he sang to her uncouth songs that moved through her body.

You must now go home, where everything — you can be quite sure — will be falser than here….You must go now. You’ll leave by the right, through the alley….

One can hear all that’s going on in the street. Which means that from the street one can hear what’s going on in this house.

Though they may not always be handsome men doomed to evil posses the manly virtues.

Added to the moral solitude of the murderer comes the solitude of the artist, which can acknowledge no authority, save that of another artist.