Strictly speaking, we do not make decisions. Decisions make us.

The only time we can talk about death is while we're alive, not afterwards.

For human words are like shadows, and shadows are incapable of explaining light and between shadow and light there is the opaque body from which words are born.

What kind of world is this that can send machines to Mars and does nothing to stop the killing of a human being?

I am a better novelist than a poet, playwright, or essayist.

I presume that nobody will deny the positive aspects of the North American cultural world. These are well known to all. But these aspects do not make one forget the disastrous effects of the industrial and commercial process of 'cultural lamination' that the USA is perpetrating on the planet.

Blessed be the night, which conceals and protects things fair and foul with the same indifferent mantle.