We must laugh and cry, enjoy and suffer, in a word, vibrate to our full capacity … I think that’s what being really human means.

… Her heart remained empty once more, and the procession of days all alike began again. So they were going to follow one another, like this, in line, always identical, innumerable, bringing nothing!

The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.

But, in her life, nothing was going to happen. Such was the will of God! The future was a dark corridor, and at the far end the door was bolted.

Stupidity lies in wanting to draw conclusions.

Me and my books in the same apartment, like a gherkin in its vinegar.

Read in order to live.