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

we would understand much more about life’s complexities if we applied ourselves to an assiduous study of its contradictions, instead of wasting time on identities and coherences, seeing as these have a duty to provide their own explanations.

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

Somewhere in the infinite that He occupies, God advances and withdraws the pawns of the other games He plays, but it is too soon to worry about this one, all He need do for the present is allow things to take their natural course, apart from the occasional adjustment with the tip of His little finger to make sure some stray thought or action does not interfere with the harmony of destinies.

This must be what it means to be a ghost, being certain that life exists, because your four senses say so, and yet unable to see it.

Age carries with it a double load of guilt.

The sun appears in one of the upper corners of the rectangle, on the left of anyone looking at the picture.