The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.

My friend was about to introduce me when she looked at me and smiled and said, "Whose little boy are you?"

It is hard for anyone under twenty to realise that death has already assigned them a number, which is going to come up one day.

People are too various to be treated so lightly. I am too various to be trusted.

When a man asks himself what is meant by action he proves that he isn't a man of action. Action is a lack of balance. In order to act you must be somewhat insane. A reasonably sensible man is satisfied with thinking.

In overlooking, denying, evading this complexity--which is nothing more than the disquieting complexity of ourselves--we are diminished and we perish; only within this web of ambiguity, paradox, this hunger, danger, darkness, can we find at once ourselves and the power that will free us from ourselves. It is this power of revelation that is the business of the novelist, this journey toward a more vast reality which must take precedence over other claims.

If one cannot risk oneself, then one is simply incapable of giving. And, after all, one can give freedom only by setting someone free.