I live in a grey world, rather like the silver screen world. But yellow stands out.

He constructed a vast labyrinthine of periods, made impassable by the piling-up of clauses upon clauses-clauses in which oversight and bad grammar seemed manifestations of disdain.

The task of art is to transform what is continuously happening to us, to transform all of these things into symbols, into music, into something which can last in man’s memory. That is our duty. If we don’t fulfill it, we feel unhappy.

Only in the present do things happen.

Literature is not exhaustible, for the sufficient and simple reason that a single book is not.

Time forks perpetually toward innumerable futures.

All writing is dreaming