I have the feeling it will influence my future writing to the extent that without any material worries I could develop a greater ease, even lightheartedness, in my writing

Every day, a piece of music, a short story, or a poem dies because its existence is no longer justified in our time. And things that were once considered immortal have become mortal again, no one knows them anymore. Even though they deserve to survive.

Love points the way. Desire is its ignorant advisor.

Strictly speaking, there are no holidays for art; art pursues you everywhere, and that's just fine with the artist.

Vice is basically the love of failure.

Seek and you shall find the repulsive things you secretly hope to find.

He lies like a book. And he reads a lot of books.