The rediscovered path, where were left the traces of childhood's lost steps.

Suspending moral judgment is not the immorality of the novel; it is its morality.

Today I know this: when it comes time to take stock, the most painful wound is that of broken friendships; and there is nothing more foolish than to sacrifice a friendship to politics.

The novel is not the author's confession; it is an investigation of human life in the trap the world has become

Radio... force-feeds us music... everywhere and all the time... sewage-water music in which music is dying.

She is sadder and sadder, and for a man there is no balm more soothing than the sadness he has caused a woman.

Such are the Splendors and Miseries of memory: it is proud of its ability to keep truthful track of the logical sequence of past events; but when it comes to how we experienced them at the time, memory feels no obligation to truth.