A man fell in love with Jeanne, and she tried to love him. But she complained that he uttered such ordinary words, that he could never say the magic phrase which would open her being.

When your beauty struck me, it dissolved me. Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence. I see in you that part of me which is you. I surrender my sincerity because if I love you it means we share the same fantasies, we share the same madness.

I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don't know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. In reality those who satisfy me are those who simply allow me to live with my ''idea of them.

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.

When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others.

I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.

There is no denying that we are suffering from a collective neurosis and the novel which does not face this is not a novel of our time.