If people only knew what lies at the heart of my novels! What a tumult of desires these carefully written pages conceal! I sometimes have a loathing for the furious cravings that give me no peace except when I am working.

I am probably exaggerating a little, but I owe my equilibrium to ink and paper.

Our life is a book that writes itself and whose principal themes sometimes escape us. We are like characters in a novel who do not always understand what the author wants of them.

Thoughts fly and words go on foot. Therein lies all the drama of a writer.

Perhaps the greatest consolation of the oppressed is to consider themselves superior to their tyrants.

The secret is to write just anything, to dare to write just anything, because when you write just anything, you begin to say what is important.

A scrupulous man will never produce a great novel.