The strongest guard is placed at the gateway to nothing. Maybe because the condition of emptiness is too shameful to be divulged.

She wanted to exist only as a conscious flower, prolonging and preserving herself

he used to think that he wanted to be good, he wanted to be kind, he wanted to be brave and wise, but it was all pretty difficult. He wanted to be loved, too, if he could fit it in.

I can’t exactly describe how I feel but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me cold.

Every author ought to write every book as if he were going to be beheaded the day he finished it.

Long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.

To have something to say is a question of sleepless nights and worry and endless ratiocination of subject - of endless trying to dig out the essential truth, the essential justice. As a first premise you have to develop a conscience and if on top of that you have talent so much the better. But if you have talent without the conscience, you are just one of many thousands of journalists.