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

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.

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

A man with a soul is not like every other man.

It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.

In the name of religion, one tortures, persecutes, builds pyres. In the guise of ideologies, one massacres, tortures and kills. In the name of justice one punishes...in the name of love of one's country or of one's race hates other countries, despises them, massacres them. In the name of equality and brotherhood there is suppression and torture. There is nothing in common between the means and the end, the means go far beyond the end...ideologies and religion... are the alibis of the means.

We haven't the time to take out time.