The form [of literature] matters little to me, classical or not.

I think [Alain Robbe-Grillet] a good writer, but he speaks to the comfortable bourgeoisie.

All the same, they [books] do serve some purpose. Culture doesn't save anything or anyone, it doesn't justify. But it's a product of man: he projects himself into it, he recognizes himself in it; that critical mirror alone offers him his image.

People who live in society have learnt how to see themselves, in mirrors, as they appear to their friends. I have no friends: is that why my flesh is so naked?

As long as the writer cannot write for the two billion men who are hungry, he will be oppressed by a feeling of malaise.

I will not be modest. Humble, as much as you like, but not modest. Modesty is the virtue of the lukewarm.

Little flashes of sun on the surface of a cold, dark sea.