As for my father, few souls are less troubled. He can be simply pleased with us, pleased that we exist, and, from the vantage point of his wondrously serene old age, he contemplates our lives almost as if they were books he can dip into whenever he wants. His back pages, perhaps.

Is not this world an illusion? And yet it fools everybody.

One beast and only one howls in the woods by night.

The only time I ever iron the sheets or make meringues is when there is an ... urgent deadline in the offing.

His main principles were indeed as follows: everything it is possible to imagine can also exist.

Language is power, life and the instrument of culture, the instrument of domination and liberation.

Nostalgia, the vice of the aged. We watch so many old movies our memories come in monochrome.