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.

Art and order, the relatives that refuse to relate.

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

As is said about most writers: on the one hand all I ever did from when I was a child was read, and I was a loner, which was furthered by my parents and my upbringing.

Anna despises two classes of people: first, those who own their own homes and have cars and families, and second, everybody else. Constantly she is on the verge of exploding. With rage. A pool of pure red. The pool is filled with speechlessness that talks away at her nonstop.

The first thing a proprietor learns, and painfully at that, is: Trust is fine, but control is better.

I cannot stand public attention, I just can't. Of course, if I may I might write something instead