A nose that can see is worth two that sniff.

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

I have no other pictures of the world apart from those which express evanescence, and callousness, vanity and anger, emptiness, orhideous useless hate. Everything has merely confirmed what I had seen and understood in my childhood: futile and sordid fits of rage, cries suddenly blanketed by the silence, shadows swallowed up for ever by the night.

Drama lies in extreme exaggeration of the feelings, an exaggeration that dislocates flat everyday reality.

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

It's not a certain society that seems ridiculous to me, it's mankind.

We are all looking for something of extraordinary importance whose nature we have forgotten; I am writing the memoirs of a man who has lost his memory.