No one will ever know from what secret I am writing and the fact that I say so changes nothing.

Beyond the touchline there is nothing.

I wrote some bad poetry that I published in North African journals, but even as I withdrew into this reading, I also led the life of a kind of young hooligan.

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

It is to have a compulsive, repetitive, and nostalgic desire for the archive, an irrepressible desire to return to the origin, a homesickness, a nostalgia for the return to the most archaic place of absolute commencement

Learning to live ought to mean learning to die - to acknowledge, to accept, an absolute mortality - without positive outcome,or resurrection, or redemption, for oneself or for anyone else. That has been the old philosophical injunction since Plato: to be a philosopher is to learn how to die.

Actually, when I write, there is a feeling of necessity, of something that is stronger than myself that demands that I must write as I write.