Memory Is A Mirror That Scandalously Lies.

I Think It Is Vanity To Want To Put Into A Story Anything But The Story Itself.

The Unusual Is Only Found In A Very Small Percentage, Except In Literary Creations, And That Is Exactly What Makes Literature.

When One Wants To Write, One Writes. If One Is Condemned To Write, One Writes.

[heaven Is] That Moment In Which Something Attains Its Maximum Depth, Its Maximum Reach, Its Maximum Sense, And Becomes Completely Uninteresting.

What Good Is A Writer If He Can't Destroy Literature? And Us... What Good Are We If We Don't Help As Much As We Can In That Destruction?