Imprecision is tolerable and verisimilar in literature, because we always tend towards it in life.

The time for your labor has been granted.

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.

A labyrinth of symbols... An invisible labyrinth of time.

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

The gods weave misfortunes for men, so that the generations to come will have something to sing about.” Mallarmé repeats, less beautifully, what Homer said; “tout aboutit en un livre,” everything ends up in a book. The Greeks speak of generations that will sing; Mallarmé speaks of an object, of a thing among things, a book. But the idea is the same; the idea that we are made for art, we are made for memory, we are made for poetry, or perhaps we are made for oblivion. But something remains, and that something is history or poetry, which are not essentially different.

If a writer disbelieves what he is writing, then he can hardly expect his reader to believe it.