Every Thing In Life Is A Uniform;

Human Vocabulary Is Still Not Capable, And Probably Never Will Be, Of Knowing, Recognizing, And Communicating Everything That Can Be Humanly Experienced And Felt.

The Best Way To Killing A Rose Is To Force It Open When It Is Still Only The Promise Of A Bud.

The Only Miracle We Can Perform Is To Go On Living, Said The Woman, To Preserve The Fragility Of Life From Day To Day, As If It Were Blind And Did Not Know Where To Go, And Perhaps It Is Like That, Perhaps It Really Does Not Know, It Placed Itself In Our Hands, After Giving Us Intelligence.

Sometimes I Say That Writing A Novel Is The Same As Constructing A Chair: A Person Must Be Able To Sit In It, To Be Balanced On It. If I Can Produce A Great Chair, Even Better. But Above All I Have To Make Sure That It Has Four Stable Feet.

Though I Had Come Into The World On 16 November 1922, My Official Documents Show That I Was Born Two Days Later, On The 18th. It Was Thanks To This Petty Fraud That My Family Escaped From Paying The Fine For Not Having Registered My Birth At The Proper Legal Time.