The delirium and horror of the East. The dusty catastrophe of Asia. Green only on the banner of the Prophet. Nothing grows here except mustaches.
I don't believe in that country any longer. I'm not interested. I'm writing in the language, and I like the language.
A language is a more ancient and inevitable thing than any state.
Who included me among the ranks of the human race?
On the whole, love comes with the speed of light; separation, with that of sound.
For a writer only one form of patriotism exists: his attitude toward language.