Every few seconds a new book sees the light of day. Most of them will just be a part of the hum that makes us hard of hearing. Even the book is becoming an instrument of forgetting. A truly literary work comes into being as its creator's cry of protest against the forgetting that looms over him, over his predecessors and his contemporaries alike, and over his time, and the language he speaks. A literary work is something that defies death.

Animals have one thing that puts them way ahead of people: they don't dissemble, and you don't have to pretend in front of them.

Justice was revenge wrapping itself in a cloak of high principle.

To destroy is easier than to create, and that is why so many people are ready to demonstrate against what they reject. But what would they say if one asked them what they wanted instead?

Graveyards remind us of the vanity of all human endeavour.

Man is afraid to attain what he longs for, just as subconsciously he longs for what he is afraid of.

If we lose our memory, we lose ourselves. Forgetting is one of the symptoms of death. Without memory we cease to be human beings.