To die for a religion is easier than to live it absolutely.

In the course of a life devoted less to living than to reading, I have verified many times that literary intentions and theories are nothing more than stimuli and that the final work usually ignores or even contradicts them.

I do not write for a select minority, which means nothing to me, nor for that adulated platonic entity known as ‘The Masses’. Both abstractions, so dear to the demagogue, I disbelieve in. I write for myself and for my friends, and I write to ease the passing of time.

You who read me, are You sure of understanding my language?

I have known uncertainty: a state unknown to the Greeks.

Reality favors symmetry.

Time forks perpetually toward innumerable futures.