We're extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in. One would have to live a long, long time, unquestionably longer than the world itself.

This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.

I cannot imagine any writer who would not fight for his peace and quiet.

I like being near the top of a mountain. One can't get lost here.

I'm drowning in papers.

I'm old-fashioned and think that reading books is the most glorious pastime that humankind has yet devised.

I slide my arm from under the sleeper's head and it is numb, full of swarming pins, on the tip of each, waiting to be counted, the fallen angels sit.