Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us.

I realized that searching was my symbol, the emblem of those who go out at night with nothing in mind, the motives of a destroyer of compasses.

Skill alone cannot teach or produce a great short story, which condenses the obsession of the creature; it is a hallucinatory presence manifest from the first sentence to fascinate the reader, to make him lose contact with the dull reality that surrounds him, submerging him in another that is more intense and compelling.

(memory is) A strange echo, which stores its replicas according to some other acoustic than consciousness or expectation.

She would smile and show no surprise, convinced as she was, the same as I, that casual meetings are apt to be just the opposite, and that people who make dates are the same kind who need lines on their writing paper, or who always squeeze up from the bottom on a tube of toothpaste.

Wordplay hides a key to reality that the dictionary tries in vain to lock inside every free word.

I think it is vanity to want to put into a story anything but the story itself.