Perhaps the act of writing is necessary when nothing happens.

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.

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.

The thorn of death falls from heaven, and its myriad forms leave us no room to move.

When I look at small things, I think I shall go on living: drops of rain, leather gloves shrunk by being wet... When I look at something too big, I want to die: the Diet Building, or a map of the world.

Perhaps the act of writing is necessary when nothing happens.