What was it to love someone, what was love exactly, and why did it end or not end? Those were the real questions, and who could answer them?

And no book, and possibly no painting, when it is finished, is ever exactly like the first dream of it.

Every man is his own law court and punishes himself enough.

I think people often try to find through sex things that are much easier to find in other ways.

When I am thickening my plots, I like to think 'What if ... What if ... ' Thus my imagination can move from the likely, which everyone can think of, to the unlikely-but-possible, my preferred plot.

Everything human is alien to me.

I find the public passion for justice quite boring and artificial.