Do you think I can read [Alain] Robbe-Grillet in an underdeveloped country? He does not feel himself maimed.

When my relations with the Communist Party gave me the necessary perspective I decided to write my autobiography. I wanted to show how a man can pass from literature held sacred to action which nevertheless remains that of an intellectual.

I felt myself in a solitude so frightful that I contemplated suicide. What held me back was the idea that no one, absolutely no one, would be moved by my death, that I would be even more alone in death than in life.

Good digestions, the gray monotony of provincial life, and the boredom-ah the soul-destroying boredom-of long days of mild content.

My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I'm going to sleep.

Death is a continuation of my life without me.

Evil is the product of the ability of humans to make abstract that which is concrete.