I'm such a jerk; it had never occurred to me that when we look at a photo from the front, the eyes reproduce exactly the position and the vision of the lens; it's these things that are taken for granted and it never occurs to anyone to think about them.

What good is a writer if he can't destroy literature? And us... what good are we if we don't help as much as we can in that destruction?

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

Time is born in the eyes, everybody knows that.

When one wants to write, one writes. If one is condemned to write, one writes.

I can't think of another writer who can move me as surreptitiously as Vian does

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