Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends

A work settles nothing, just as the labor of a whole generation settles nothing. Sons, and the morrow, always start afresh.

Literature is a defense against the attacks of life. It says to life: You can't deceive me. I know your habits, foresee and enjoy watching all your reactions, and steal your secret by involving you in cunning obstructions that halt your normal flow.

Reality is a prison, where one vegetates and always will.

The cadence of suffering has begun. Every evening at dusk, my heart constricts until night has come.

The slowness of time, for a man who knows nothing will happen, is brutal.

We commit two wrongs when we fail to right a wrong.