After all, when you take a walk you're after solitude, and if the solitude won't come to you, you must go to it.
Trust is fine, but control is better.
Art and order, the relatives that refuse to relate.
Strictly speaking, there are no holidays for art; art pursues you everywhere, and that's just fine with the artist.
I do not want to have the feeling of writing "for eternity," so to speak.
Literature that keeps employing new linguistic and formal modes of expression to draft a panorama of society as a whole while at the same time exposing it, tearing the masks from its face - for me that would be deserving of an award.