The more a book is like an opium pipe, the more the Chinaman reader is satisfied with it and tends to discuss the quality of the drug rather than its lethargic effects.

For me the thing that signals a great story is what we might call its autonomy, the fact that it detaches itself from its author like a soap bubble blown from a clay pipe.

Human history is the sad result of each one looking out for himself.

Memory is a mirror that scandalously lies.

Time is born in the eyes, everybody knows that.

The unusual is only found in a very small percentage, except in literary creations, and that is exactly what makes literature.

Only in dreams, in poetry, in play do we sometimes arrive at what we were before we were this thing that, who knows, we are.