The history of the world, as it is written and handed down by word of mouth, often fails us completely; but man's intuitive capacity, though it often misleads, does lead, does not ever abandon one.

I have spent my life resisting the desire to end it.

Writing [is] a form of prayer.

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.

He who does not answer the questions has passed the test.

Time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible, then one must try to wriggle through by subtle manoeuvres.

If there is a transmigration of souls then I am not yet on the bottom rung. My life is a hesitation before birth.