Philosophers write for professors; thinkers for writers.

On Creating — What we crave, what we want to see in others eyes, is that servile expression, an unconcealed infatuation with our gestures.

I feel completely detached from any country, any group. I am a metaphysically displaced person

Hungarian Language — savage it may be but of a beauty that has nothing human about it, with sonorities of another universe, powerful and corrosive, appropriate to prayer, to groans and to tears, risen out of hell to perpetuate its accent and its aura…words of nectar and cyanide.

An individual dies ... when, instead of taking risks and hurling himself toward being, he cowers within, and takes refuge there.

Insomnia is a vertiginous lucidity that can convert paradise itself into a place of torture.

As art sinks into paralysis, artists multiply. This anomaly ceases to be one if we realize that art, on its way to exhaustion, has become both impossible and easy.