The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.
The obstacle became his alibi for weakness.
I love the abstract, delicate, profound, vague, voluptuously wordless sensation of living ecstatically.
I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live.
Ordinary life does not interest me.
Truth is something which can't be told in a few words. Those who simplify the universe only reduce the expansion of its meaning.