Siryne

“Quand je serai la longue chrysalide, pareille à ce mort inconnu fleuri de corolles jaunes et porté comme un arbre vers les bûchers, quand mon front sera de cire, ma chevelure sèche et noyée, mon corps une corne creuse où mugiront les tritons de la mort, quand mes doigts seront gantés de cuir mou, lorsque mes yeux seront de chaux, astéries torturées.”
― Gabrielle Wittkop, Chaque jour est un arbre qui tombe

“Straight lines go too quickly to appreciate the pleasures of the journey. They rush straight to their target and then die in the very moment of their triumph without having thought, loved, suffered or enjoyed themselves. Broken lines do not know what they want. With their caprices they cut time up, abuse routes, slash the joyous flowers and split the peaceful fruits with their corners. It is another story with curved lines. The song of the curved line is called happiness.”
― Rene Crevel

“For fourteen days, I was unspeakably happy. Unspeakably but not absolutely because, for me, joy never comes without the grief of knowing it is only ephemeral. All happiness carries with it the seed of its own end.”
― Gabrielle Wittkop, The Necrophiliac

“Everything was so quiet, as if the silence was listening.”
― Anna Kavan