In effect I am not a novelist, but rather a failed essayist who started to write novels because he didn't know how to write essays.

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

We all have our moments of weakness, just as well that we are still capable of weeping, tears are often our salvation, there are times when we would die if we did not weep - Blindness

It is strange how the elderly fall silent when they ought to go on speaking, obliging the young to learn everything from scratch.

In the end we discover the only condition for living is to die.

It is not pornography that is obscene, it is hunger that is obscene.

We know that happiness is short-lived, that we fail to cherish it when it is within our grasp and value it only when it has vanished forever.