For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths.

we interpret life at moments of the deepest desperation.

In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we're no more than castrated cats

I'd obviously never heard of the group, but my ignorance in literary matters is to blame for that (every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me).

As time goes by, as time goes by, the whip-crack of the years, the precipice of illusions, the ravine that swallows up all human endeavour except the struggle to survive.

Nothing happened today. And if anything did, I’d rather not talk about it, because I didn’t understand it.

Being alone makes us stronger. That’s the honest truth. But it’s cold comfort, since even if I wanted company no one will come near me anymore.