Language should almost break up or explode in its fruitless effort to contain so many meanings.

When silence confronts us, the question to which there is no answer rings out in the silence. That ultimate "why," that great "why" is like a light that blots out everything, but a blinding light; nothing more can be made out.

You can only predict things after they have happened.

We have not the time to take our time.

I still forget, sometimes, that I am no longer 12 years old.

The brightest light, the light of Italy, the purest sky of Scandinavia in the month of June is only a half-light when one compares it to the light of childhood. Even the nights were blue.

To become conscious of what is horrifying and to laugh at it is to become master of that which is horrifying