The world is made of sugar and dirt.

And if you ask again whether there is any justice in the world, you'll have to be satisfied with the reply: Not for the time being; at any rate, not up to this Friday.

Writing is not chewing your nails and picking your teeth, but a matter of public interest.

No country is so peaceful as the one that leads into death. Life arches above one's head like a bridgespan, and below it flows the water, carries the boat, takes it further.

The world is made of sugar and dirt.

The subject of the novel is reality liberated from soul. The reader in complete independence presented with a structured process:let him evaluate it, not the author. The façade of the novel cannot be other than stone or steel, flashing electrically or dark, but silent.

The cities are the principal home and seat of the human group. They are the coral colony for Man, the collective being.