I not only lived physically away from my native land, but the values and critical judgments of those closest to me became stranger and stranger.

But the Spain which emerged around 1960, beginning with its economic miracle, created by the invasion of tourists, can no longer result in impassioned dedication on the part of its intellectuals, and even less on the part of foreign intellectuals.

In my opinion, the most significant works of the twentieth century are those that rise beyond the conceptual tyranny of genre; they are, at the same time, poetry, criticism, narrative, drama, etc.

My exile was not only a physical one, motivated exclusively by political reasons; it was also a moral, social, ideological and sexual exile.

Marks of Identity is, among other things, the expression of the process of alienation in a contemporary intellectual with respect to his own country.

In the Europe which was created by the Second World War, divided into two blocks, each in need of a revolution that would end the abuses and injustices of capitalism and the privileges of a bureaucratic caste, collective faith does not exist.

As I began to discover my own truth and endeavored to possess it with CLARITY, I became more and more alienated from that which my companions held, or professed to hold.