Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas!

I can't bear art that you can walk round and admire. A book should be either a bandit or a rebel or a man in the crowd.

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

The essential function of art is moral. But a passionate, implicit morality, not didactic. A morality which changes the blood, rather than the mind.

Sex and beauty are inseparable, like life and consciousness. And the intelligence which goes with sex and beauty, and arises out of sex and beauty, is intuition.