In 1957, I Decided: Write Or Perish.

To Write? Because All This Is Going To Vanish. The Only Thing Left Will Be The Prose And Poems, The Books, What Is Written Down. Man Was Very Fortunate To Have Invented The Book. Without It The Past Would Completely Vanish, And We Would Be Left With Nothing, We Would Be Naked On Earth.

I Don't Fear Death. I'm Not Obsessed With It The Way Everybody Else Seems To Be.

Events Need Their Invitation, Dissolutions Their Start.

Sometimes I Write With A Particular Person In Mind. I Think It's Fair To Say That I Write For A Perceptive Reader. You Have To Get It. If You Don't Get It The First Time You May Not Understand. If You Like Repetition, Analysis, Explanation, You Probably Won't Like My Books.

I Am Afraid Of Him, Of All Men Who Are Successful In Love.