Shiny musical instruments wailed, their mouths open like lilies.

If an animal has to be sacrificed when a new bridge is built, what will it take to build a whole new world?

Dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible... The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship.

The days were heavy and sticky. All identical, one the same as the other. Soon they would even get rid of their one remaining distinction, the shell of their names: Monday, Tuesday, Thursday.

I had three choices: to conform to my own beliefs, which meant death; complete silence, which meant another kind of death; to pay a tribute, a bribe. I chose the third solution by writing The Long Winter.

I could not understand how people could not like something as beautiful as the aerodrome. But I had lately become convinced that in general people were pretty boring. They liked to moan for hours on end about how hard it was to make ends meet, about the money they owed, the price of food, and other similar worries, but the minute some more brilliant or attractive subject come up, they were struck deaf.

A mountaineer’s house, before being his home and the home of his family, is the home of God and of guests.