This is something that I cannot get over -- that a whole line could be written by half a man, that a work could be built on the quicksand of a character.

No ideas and the ability to express them - that's a journalist.

The agitator seizes the word. The artist is seized by it.

One's need for loneliness is not satisfied if one sits at a table alone. There must be empty chairs as well.

Language is the mother of thought, not its handmaiden.

My request that my writing be read twice has aroused great indignation. Unjustly so. After all, I do not ask that they be read once.

The real end of the world is the destruction of the spirit; the other kind depends on the insignificant attempt to see whether after such a destruction the world can go on.