One does not inhabit a country; one inhabits a language. That is our country, our fatherland - and no other.
I foresee the day when we shall read nothing but telegrams and prayers.
Our place is somewhere between being and nonbeing - between two fictions.
A golden rule: to leave an incomplete image of oneself.
Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.
Society: an inferno of saviors!