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.

Love points the way. Desire is its ignorant advisor.

It could draw from a greater reservoir of freedom. The irony could develop an even greater ease.

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.

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

I do not fight against men, but against the system that is sexist.

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