A picture of my existence... would show a useless wooden stake covered in snow... stuck loosely at a slant in the ground in a ploughed field on the edge of a vast open plain on a dark winter night.

Sometimes I think I can expiate all my past and future sins through the aching of my bones.

A first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die.

From outside one will always triumphantly impress theories upon the world and then fall straight into the ditch one has dug, but only from inside will one keep oneself and the world quiet and true.

It would have been so pointless to kill himself that, even if he had wanted to, the pointlessness would have made him unable.

We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.

Better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have.