The wisest man I ever knew in my whole life could not read or write. At four o'clock in the morning, when the promise of a new day still lingered over French lands, he got up from his pallet and left for the fields, taking to pasture the half-dozen pigs whose fertility nourished him and his wife.

Without the faintest possibility of finding a job, I decided to devote myself to literature: it was about time to find out what I was worth as a writer.

There is nothing that is truly free nor democratic enough. Make no mistake, the internet did not come to save the world.

Chaos is merely order waiting to be deciphered

The possibility of the impossible, dreams and illusions, are the subject of my novels.

As so often happens, the thing left undone tires you most of all, you only feel rested when it has been accomplished.

Will we ever learn that certain things can be understood only if we take the trouble to trace them to their origins.