If I hadn't met you, I'd certainly have fallen in love with him.

Yes, it's crazy. Love is either crazy or it's nothing at all.

The stupidity of people comes from having an answer for everything. The wisdom of the novel comes from having a question for everything. The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question. There is wisdom and tolerance in that attitude. In a world built on sacrosanct certainties the novel is dead.

And I ran after that voice through the streets so as not to lose sight of the splendid wreath of bodies gliding over the city, and I realized with anguish in my heart that they were flying like birds and I was falling like a stone, that they had wings and I would never have any.

The serial number of a human specimen is the face, that accidental and unrepeatable combination of features. It reflects neither character nor soul, nor what we call the self. The face is only the serial number of a specimen

In the world of highways, a beautiful landscape means: an island of beauty connected by a long line with other islands of beauty.

Culture is perishing in overproduction, in an avalanche of words, in the madness of quantity.