...it is easy not to believe in monsters, considerably more difficult to escape their dread and loathsome clutches.

I felt myself being invaded through and through, I crumbled, disintegrated, and only emptiness remained.

For what are myths if not the imposing of order on phenomena that do not possess order in themselves? And all myths, however they differ from philosophical systems and scientific theories, share this with them, that they negate the principle of randomness in the world.

Good books tell the truth, even when they're about things that never have been and never will be. They're truthful in a different way

I never read to kill time. Killing time is like killing someone's wife or a child. There is nothing more precious for me than time.

Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him. Man can serve his age or rebel against it, but the target of his cooperation or rebellion comes to him from outside.

How do you expect to communicate with the ocean, when you can’t even understand one another?