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.

All profound distraction opens certain doors. You have to allow yourself to be distracted when you are unable to concentrate.

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.

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

I raised the camera, pretended to study a focus which did not include them, and waited and watched closely, sure that I would finally catch the revealing expression, one that would sum it all up, life that is rhythmed by movement but which a stiff image destroys, taking time in cross section, if we do not choose the essential imperceptible fraction of it.

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