« For it is to her that I always return through the thread of this limitless love, this universally widespread love. And craters grow in my hands, mazes of breasts grow there, explosive loves grow there that my life wins over my sleep. » (Antonin Artaud)

« When will we meet again?
When will the earthy taste of your lips once again brush against the anxiety of my mind?
The earth is like a whirlwind of mortal lips.
Life digs before us the abyss of all the caresses that have been lacking. What do we have to do with this angel who has not been able to show himself? Will all our sensations be forever intellectual, and will our dreams not manage to catch fire on a soul whose emotion will help us die. What is this death where we are forever alone, where love does not show us the way? » (Antonin Artaud
Art and Death, 1929)