There is no progress in art.

There is no progress in art.

People seldom learn from the mistakes of others-not because they deny the value of the past, but because they are faced with new problems.

It seems to me that the novel is very much alive as a form. Without any question, every epoch has its own forms, and the novel nowadays cannot resemble that of the nineteenth century. In this domain all experiments are justified, and it is better to write something new clumsily than to repeat the old brilliantly. In the nineteenth century, novels dealt with the fate of a person or of a family; this was linked to life in that period. In our time the destinies of people are interwoven. Whether man recognizes it or not, his fate is much more linked to that of many other people than it used to be.

Every master knows that the material teaches the artist.

It’s as much a writer’s concern, who is responsible to his readers for all the books written before him as well as those which will be written after him.

Kill the Germans, wherever you find them! Every German is our moral enemy. Have no mercy on women, children, or the aged! Kill every German - wipe them out!