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.

We only really face up to ourselves when we are afraid.

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.

I avoid literature whenever possible, because whenever possible I avoid myself.

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

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

The anger and the brutality against everything can readily from one hour to the next be transformed into its opposite.