Man is what he wills himself to be.

Every word has consequences. Every silence, too.

I needed to justify my existence, and I had made an absolute of literature. It took me thirty years to get rid of this state of mind.

The sun is not ridiculous, quite the contrary. On everything I like, on the rust of the construction girders, on the rotten boards of the fence, a miserly, uncertain light falls, like the look you give, after a sleepless night, on decisions made with enthusiasm the day before, on pages you have written in one spurt without crossing out a word.

If you seek authenticity for authenticity's sake you are no longer authentic.

A man who is free is like a mangy sheep in a herd. He will contaminate my entire kingdom and ruin my work.

An individual chooses and makes himself.