We are our memory, we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes, that pile of broken mirrors.

To arrange a library is to practice in a quiet and modest way the art of criticism.

When I feel I'm going to write something, then I just am quiet and I try to listen. Then something comes through. And I do what I can in order not to tamper with it.

I would rather like to think of God as being a kind of adventurer - even as Wells thought about him - or perhaps as something within us making for some unknown purpose.

I have no way of knowing whether the events that I am about to narrate are effects or causes.

When I wake up, I wake to something worse. It’s the astonishment of being myself

We have shared out, like thieves, the amazing treasures of days and nights.