You see, the contemporary writer must write through his intimations of unease, while trying to elucidate them.

There it is: I am gently slipping into the water's depths, towards fear.

As if there could be true stories: things happen in one way, and we retell them in the opposite way.

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.

Consciousness is a being the nature of which is to be conscious of the nothingness of its being.

Sometimes the truth is too simple for intellectuals.

It is always more valuable to report the truth.