Like Writing, Reading Is A Protest Against

Memory Is A Snare, Pure And Simple; It Alters, It Subtly Rearranges The Past To Fit The Present.

Writers Are The Exorcists Of Their Own Demons.

Men Do Not Live By Truth Alone; They Also Need Lies: Those That They Invent Freely, Not Those That Are Imposed On Them; Those That Appear As They Are, Not Smuggled In Beneath The Clothes Of History. Fiction Enriches Their Existence, Completes Them And, Fleetingly, Compensates Them For This Tragic Condition Which Is Our Lot: Always To Desire And Dream More Than We Can Actually Achieve.

Literature Is A Form Of Permanent Insurrection. Its Mission Is To Arouse, To Disturb, To Alarm, To Keep Men In A Constant State Of Dissatisfaction With Themselves.

But What Do I Have? The Things I'm Told And The Things I Tell, That's All. And As Far As I Know, That Never Yet Made Anyone Fly.