A life spent writing has taught me to be wary of words. Those that seem clearest are often the most treacherous.

are you certain that a man's life begins with his birth?

I come from no country, from no city, no tribe. I am the son of the road... all tongues and all prayers belong to me. But I belong to none of them.

The fact of simultaneously being Christian and having as my mother tongue Arabic, the holy language of Islam, is one of the basic paradoxes that have shaped my identity.

Life is like a fire. Flames which the passer-by forgets. Ashes which the wind scatters. A man lived.

God, she was beautiful - my first image of the Orient - a woman such as only the desert poet knew how to praise: her face was the sun, her hair the protecting shadow, her eyes fountains of cool water, her body the most slender of palm-trees and her smile a mirage.

All pleasures must be paid for, do not despise those that state their price.