Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.

It seems to me... that I have always lived! I possess memories that go back to the Pharoahs. I see myself very clearly at different ages of history, practicing different professions... My present personality is the result of my lost [past] personalities.

The true poet for me is a priest. As soon as he dons the cassock, he must leave his family.

I do not like to "interest" the public with myself.

Talent is nothing but long patience.

Boredom, that silent spider, was spinning its web in the darkness in every corner of her heart.

You forget everything. The hours slip by. You travel in your chair through centuries you seem seem to see before you, your thoughts are caught up in the story, dallying with the details or following the course of the plot, you enter into characters, so that it seems as if it were your own heart beating beneath their costumes.