Fortunately I have never learned to take the good advice I give myself nor the counsel of my fears.

I never liked to hunt, you know. There was always the danger of having a horse fall on you.

Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.

My big fish must be somewhere.

Having books published is very destructive to writing. It is even worse than making love too much. Because when you make love too much at least you get a damned clarte that is like no other light. A very clear and hollow light.

I felt very lonely when they were all there.

There are the two curses of Spain, the bulls and the priests.