Dear, sweet, unforgettable childhood! Why does this irrevocable time, forever departed, seem brighter, more festive and richer than it actually was?

My holy of holies is the human body, health, intelligence, talent, inspiration, love, and absolute freedom--freedom from violence and falsehood, no matter how the last two manifest themselves.

He who desires nothing, hopes for nothing, and is afraid of nothing, cannot be an artist.

Oh, I have now a mania for shortness. Whatever I read - my own or other people's works - it all seems to me not short enough.

Faith is an aptitude of the spirit. It is, in fact, a talent: you must be born with it.

The aim of fiction is absolute and honest truth.

The happy man only feels at ease because the unhappy bear their burden in silence. Without this silence, happiness would be impossible.