The arrogance that says analysing the relationship between reasons and causes is more important than writing a philosophy of shyness or sadness or friendship drives me nuts. I can't accept that.

Pegging your contentment to the overall state of the world rather than of your own life: the basis of morality, or a sort of madness?

My writing always came out of a very personal place, out of an attempt to stay sane.

What is fascinating about marriage is why anyone wants to get married.

It is perhaps sad books that best console us when we are sad, and to lonely service stations that we should drive when there is no one for us to hold or love.

The longing for destiny is nowhere stronger than in our romantic life.

We are sad at home and blame the weather and the ugliness of the buildings, but on the tropical island we learn that the state of the skies and the appearance of our dwellings can never on their own underwrite our joy nor condemn us to misery.