I made the remark that I don't avoid people in order to live quietly, but rather in order to be able to die quietly.

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

Writing [is] a form of prayer.

A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.

Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate... but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins.

I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.

It is only our conception of time that makes us call the Last Judgement by this name. It is, in fact, a kind of martial law.