I really only write about inner landscapes and most people don't see them, because they see practically nothing within, because they think that because it's inside, it's dark, and so they don't see anything. I don't think I've ever yet, in any of my books, described a landscape. There's really nothing of the kind in any of them. I only ever write concepts. And so I'm always referring to "mountains" or "a city" or "streets." But as to how they look: I've never produced a description of a landscape. That's never even interested me.

In theory we understand people, but in practice we can't put up with them, I thought, deal with them for the most part reluctantly and always treat them from our point of view. We should observe and treat people not from our point of view but from all angles, I thought, associate with them in such a way that we can say we associate with them so to speak in a completely unbiased way, which however isn't possible, since we actually are always biased against everybody.

You are never truly together with one you love until the person in question is dead and actually inside you.

Everyone is a virtuoso on his own instrument, but together they add up to an intolerable cacophony.

What is ridiculous about human beings, Doctor,' the prince said, 'is actually their total incapacity to be ridiculous

The thinking man always finds himself in a gigantic orphanage in which people are continually proving to him that he has no parents.

The only friends I have are the dead who have bequeathed their writings to me — I have no others.