My Novels Are All Ideas.

I Tend To Think That Good And Evil Exist And That The Quantity In Each Of Us Is Unchangeable. The Moral Character Of People Is Set, Fixed Until Death.

Last Election Shows That There's A Big Discrepancy Between Two Parts Of The Country. That Discrepancy Also Exists In France, But We've Had The National Front For Forty Years, And It Only Took Trump One Year To Get Elected. Very Fast. That's The Surprising Thing. In France We Thought Everybody Liked Obama, But Maybe The Media Were Lying. Maybe They Didn't.

An Entire Life Spent Reading Would Have Fulfilled My Every Desire; I Already Knew That At The Age Of Seven. The Texture Of The World Is Painful, Inadequate; Unalterable, Or So It Seems To Me. Really, I Believe That An Entire Life Spent Reading Would Have Suited Me Best. Such A Life Has Not Been Granted Me.

I Admit That Invective Is One Of My Pleasures. This Only Brings Me Problems In Life, But That's It. I Attack, I Insult. I Have A Gift For That, For Insults, For Provocation. So I Am Tempted To Use It.

I've Lived So Little That I Tend To Imagine I'm Not Going To Die; It Seems Improbable That Human Existence Can Be Reduced To So Little; One Imagines, In Spite Of Oneself, That Sooner Or Later Something Is Bound To Happen. A Big Mistake. A Life Can Just As Well Be Both Empty And Short. The Days Slip By Indifferently, Leaving Neither Trace Nor Memory; And Then All Of A Sudden They Stop.