Thought itself needs words. It runs on them like a long wire. And if it loses the habit of words, little by little it becomes shapeless, somber.

When I say "I," I mean a thing absolutely unique, not to be confused with any other.

'Mad' is a term we use to describe a man who is obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

Behind everything we feel, there is always a sense of fear.

A vague uneasiness: the police. It's like when you suddenly understand you have to undress in front of the doctor.

Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

Nature is honest, we aren't; we embalm our dead.