One often speaks without seeing, without knowing, without meaning what one says.

I never give in to the temptation to be difficult just for the sake of being difficult. That would be too ridiculous.

I’m no good for anything except taking the world apart and putting it together again (and I manage the latter less and less frequently).

We are all mediators, translators.

The traditional statement about language is that it is in itself living, and that writing is the dead part of language.

Still today, I cannot cross the threshold of a teaching institution without physical symptoms, in my chest and my stomach, of discomfort or anxiety. And yet I have never left school.

I always dream of a pen that would be a syringe.