I would like to write you so simply, so simply, so simply. Without having anything ever catch the eye, excepting yours alone, ... so that above all the language remains self-evidently secret, as if it were being invented at every step, and as if it were burning immediately

My most resolute opponents believe that I am too visible, that I am a little too alive, that my name echoes too much in the texts which they nevertheless claim to be inaccessible.

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

Surviving - that is the other name of a mourning whose possibility is never to be awaited.

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.

I do everything I think possible or acceptable to escape from this trap.

The only attitude (the only politics--judicial, medical, pedagogical and so forth) I would absolutely condemn is one which, directly or indirectly, cuts off the possibility of an essentially interminable questioning, that is, an effective and thus transforming questioning.