Time cannot be spurred on like a horse.

The minute you begin to have doubts, the floor under your feet starts to shake.

Many people ask why a writer commits suicide. But I think that people who ask don't know the vanity and the nothingness of writing. I think it is very usual and natural for a writer to commit suicide, because in order to keep on writing he must be a very strong person.

Work seemed something fundamental for man, something which enabled him to endure the aimless flight of time.

Year after year students tumble along like the waters of a river. They flow away, and only the teacher is left behind, like some deeply buried rock at the bottom of the current.

Something whose connection with human experience we cannot grasp is bound to be frightening.

When I was young, I could bounce back from things like a brand-new rubber ball.