What we need in literature today are vast philosophic horizons... we need the most ultimate, the most fearsome, the most fearless "Why?" and "What next?".

If we have no heretics we must invent them, for heresy is essential to health and growth.

You're in a bad way! Apparently, you have developed a soul.

The whole world is one immense woman, and we are in her very womb, we are not yet born, we are joyfully ripening.

There are two generic and invariable features that characterize utopias. One is the content: the authors of utopias paint what they consider to be ideal societies; translating this into the language of mathematics, we might say that utopias bear a + sign. The other feature, organically growing out of the content, is to be found in the form: a utopia is always static; it is always descriptive and has no, of almost no, plot dynamics.

Name me the final number, the highest, the greatest. But that's absurd! If the number of numbers is infinite, how can there be a final number? Then how can you speak of a final revolution? There is no final one. Revolutions are infinite.

Dogma, static positions, consonance - all these are obstacles to catching the disease of art, at least in its more complex forms.