The musty smell, the bugs, the lonliness, this room, which is part of the street outside-this is all I want from life.

When I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write.

I like shape very much. A novel has to have shape, and life doesn't have any.

One realized all sorts of things. The value of an illusion, for instance, and that the shadow can be more important than the substance. All sorts of things.

I'm no use to anybody,' I say. 'I'm a cérébrale, can't you see that?' Thinking how funny a book would be, called 'Just a Cérébrale or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, of course, to be accepted as authentic, to carry any conviction, it would have to be written by a man. What a pity, what a pity!

I must write. If I stop writing my life will have been an abject failure. It is that already to other people. But it could be an abject failure to myself. I will not have earned death.

There are always two deaths, the real one and the one people know about.