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

I think we all have a little bit of that beautiful madness that keeps us walking when everything around us is so insanely sane.

Literature is ... a game, but it's a game one can put one's life into.

La Maga did not know that my kisses were like eyes which began to open up beyond her, and that I went along outside as if I saw a different concept of the world, the dizzy pilot of a black prow which cut the water of time and negated it.

Only by living absurdly is it possible to break out of this infinite absurdity.

Everything can be killed except nostalgia for the kingdom, we carry it in the color of our eyes, in every love affair, in everything that deeply torments and unties and tricks.

You're like a witness. You're the one who goes to the museum and looks at the paintings. I mean the paintings are there and you're in the museum too, near and far away at the same time. I'm a painting. Rocamadour is a painting. Etienne is a painting, this room is a painting. You think that you're in the room but you're not. You're looking at the room, you're not in the room.