The literature of impotence is about to develop beyond measure.

Here we are in the century of information, that is to say the unformed. Every kind of literature will be journalistic, with a science for ballast.

True poetry is embarrassing.

Whiteness is filthy.

It’s not the light that’s attracting me, but the darkness that’s driving me on.

He wasn't physically impotent. So the impotence must lie in his soul. Finding oblivion in a moment's ecstasy was all he could manage.