Realism falls short of reality. It shrinks it, attenuates it, falsifies it; it does not take into account our basic truths and our fundamental obsessions: love, death, astonishment. It presents man in a reduced and estranged perspective. Truth is in our dreams, in the imagination.

A writer never has a vacation. For a writer, life consists of either writing or thinking about writing.

It's when I am fully conscious that I ask questions.

I started writing for the theatre because I hated it.

All cats die. Socrates is dead. Therefore Socrates is a cat.

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.

You can only predict things after they have happened.