Some of my affectionate envious friends say, "You write too much." Maybe, I answer. But as long as the best of your little is worse than the worst of my much, I will keep on doing so.

…Perhaps this momentary life of ours is only the light that divides our infinite origin from our infinite end.

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

My only two weapons: time and silence.

The greatest assassin of life is haste, the desire to reach things before the right time which means overreaching them.

Some of my affectionate envious friends say, "You write too much." Maybe, I answer. But as long as the best of your little is worse than the worst of my much, I will keep on doing so.