Life is painful and disappointing. It is useless, therefore, to write new realistic novels. We generally know where we stand in relation to reality and don’t care to know any more.

The terrible predicament of a beautiful girl is that only an experienced womanizer, someone cynical and without scruple, feels up to the challenge. More often than not, she will lose her virginity to some filthy lowlife in what proves to be the first step in an irrevocable decline.

In reality, the monotheist texts preach neither peace, love nor tolerance. They are texts of hate.

As a teenager, Michel believed that suffering conferred dignity on a person. Now he had to admit that he had been wrong. What conferred dignity on people was television.

I think that if writers don't speak about real life, it's because they don't know it.

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

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.