There he stood, in the camouflage of sun and shade, disfigured by them and masked by his own nakedness.

I was also supposed to quiz my various companions on a number of important matters such as nostalgia, fear of unknown animals, food fantasies, nocturnal emissions, hobbies, choice of radio program, changes in out look and so forth.

My mind speaks English, my heart speaks Russian, and my ear prefers French.

I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist.

It was an interesting thing to do. Why did I write any of my books, after all? For the sake of the pleasure, for the sake of the difficulty. I have no social purpose, no moral message; I've no general ideas to exploit, I just like composing riddles with elegant solutions.

Oh, let me be mawkish for the nonce! I am so tired of being cynical.

An active and creative reader is a re-reader.