I am at home everywhere, and nowhere. I am never a stranger and I never quite belong.

And Boucard desisted, probably because like everyone else he was deeply impressed by this man who had laid all ghosts, who had lost all shadows, and who stared you in the eyes with cold serenity.

I write fast, because I have not the brains to write slow.

The fact that we are I don't know how many millions of people, yet communication, complete communication, is completely impossible between two of those people, is to me one of the biggest tragic themes in the world

For 30 years I have tried to make it understood that there are no criminals.

Trotsky rises to give me his hand, then sits at his desk, gently allowing his regard to light on my person.

A novelist is a man who doesn't like his mother.