I don’t think you can talk about progress in art—movement, but not progress.

Art is not difficult because it wishes to be difficult, but because it wishes to be art.

The writer is one who, emnbarking upon a task, does not know what to do.

The task is not so much to solve problems as to propose questions.

The aim of literature ... is the creation of a strange object covered with fur which breaks your heart.

We are what we have been told about ourselves. We are the sum of the messages we have received. The true messages. The false messages.

The much heaves and palpitates. It is multidirectional and has a mayor.