Banality Is Sometimes Striking.

A Book Consists Of Two Layers: On Top, The Readable Layer ... And Underneath, A Layer That Was Inaccessible. You Only Sense Its Existence In A Moment Of Distraction From The Literal Reading, The Way You See Childhood Through A Child. It Would Take Forever To Tell What You See, And It Would Be Pointless.

In Heterosexual Love There's No Solution. Man And Woman Are Irreconcilable, And It's The Doomed Attempt To Do The Impossible, Repeated In Each New Affair, That Lends Heterosexual Love Its Grandeur.

When The Past Is Recaptured By The Imagination, Breath Is Put Back Into Life.

The Solitude Of Writing Is A Solitude Without Which Writing Could Not Be Produced, Or Would Crumble, Drained Bloodless By The Search For Something Else To Write.

In A Thousand Years Time This Day Will Have Existed For A Thousand Years To The Day. And The Ignorance Of The Whole World About What They've Said Today Will Have A Date Too.