An entire life spent reading would have fulfilled my every desire; I already knew that at the age of seven. The texture of the world is painful, inadequate; unalterable, or so it seems to me. Really, I believe that an entire life spent reading would have suited me best. Such a life has not been granted me.

Those who think they know me are simply lacking in information.

Irony won't save you from anything; humour doesn't do anything at all. You can look at life ironically for years, maybe decades; there are people who seem to go through most of their lives seeing the funny side, but in the end, life always breaks your heart. Doesn't matter how brave you are, or how reserved, or how much you've developed a sense of humour, you still end up with your heart broken. That's when you stop laughing.

The press may hate me, and I know my battles with them are not over, but that doesn't matter.

Why am I popular? I don't know. Is it a mistake? I should think it's a mistake somewhere.

Anything can happen in life, especially nothing.

Father died last year. I don't subscribe to the theory by which we only become truly adult when our parents die; we never become truly adult.