I Don't Know Whether There

My Mother Is A Very Strange Woman... She Doesn't Understand Me In The Least And Doesn't Love Me Much Either. If She Had Either Love Or Understanding She Would Be Prepared To Make Sacrifices

No Erotic Work Of Art Is Filth If It Is Artistically Significant; It Is Only Turned Into Filth Through The Beholder If He Is Filthy.

I Shall Go So Far That People Will Be Seized With Terror At The Sight Of Each Of My Works Of 'living' Art.

I Must Live In My Own Excrement, Breathe In My Own Poisonous Sticky Fumes. Yet I Am A Human Being! I Still Am. Does No One Think Of That?

Everything Is Dead While It Lives.