Between saying and doing, many a pair of shoes is worn out.

I just enjoy translating, it's like opening one's mouth and hearing someone else's voice emerge.

There is no beyond, there is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present.

Jealousy comes from self-love rather than from true love.

A letter is a barrier, a reprieve, a charm against the world, an almost infallible method of acting at a distance.

But fantasy kills imagination, pornography is death to art.

Art and morality are, with certain provisos…one. Their essence is the same. The essence of both of them is love. Love is the perception of individuals. Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real. Love, and so art and morals, is the discovery of reality.