Two aesthetics exist: the passive aesthetic of mirrors and the active aesthetic of prisms. Guided by the former, art turns into a copy of the environment's objectivity or the individual's psychic history. Guided by the latter, art is redeemed, makes the world into its instrument, and forges, beyond spatial and temporal prisons, a personal vision.

Art is very mysterious. I wonder if you can really do any damage to art. I think that when we're writing, something comes through or should come through, in spite of our theories. So theories are not really important.

God must not engage in theology. The writer must not destroy by human reasonings the faith that art requires of us.

Censorship is the mother of metaphor.

Heaven and hell seem out of proportion to me: the actions of men do not deserve so much.

The time for your labor has been granted.

I foresee that man will resign himself each day to new abominations, and soon that only bandits and soldiers will be left...