My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.

All great novels are great fairy tales.

And he absolutely had to find her at once to tell her that he adored her, but the large audience before him separated him from the door, and the notes reaching him through a succession of hands said that she was not available; that she was inaugurating a fire; that she had married an american businessman; that she had become a character in a novel; that she was dead.

I don't read reviews about myself with any special eagerness or attention unless they are masterpieces of wit and acumen, and I never reread them.

I cannot conceive how anybody in his right mind should go to a psychoanalyst.