“But me no buts, we're going to make whoopee, I tell you.”

“Tell me, Blaise, are we very far from Montmartre?'Worries Forget your worries All the stations full of cracks tilted along the way The telegraph wires they hang from The grimacing poles that gesticulate and strangle themThe world stretches lengthens and folds in like an accordion tormented by a sadistic handIn the cracks of the sky the locomotives in anger FleeAnd in the holes,The whirling wheels the mouths the voicesAnd the dogs of misfortune that bark at our heelsThe demons are unleashedIron railsEverything is off-key The broun-roun-roun of the wheelsShocksBouncesWe are a storm under a deaf man's skull...'Tell me, Blaise, are we very far from Montmartre?'Hell yes, you're getting on my nerves you know very well we're far away Overheated madness bellows in the locomotivePlague, cholera rise up like burning embers on our wayWe disappear in the war sucked into a tunnel Hunger, the whore, clings to the stampeding cloudsAnd drops battle dung in piles of stinking corpsesDo like her, do your job'Tell me, Blaise, are we very far from Montmartre?”

“I used the word 'prose' in the Trans-Siberian in the early Latin sense of prosa dictu. Poem seemed to me too pretentious, too narrow. Prose is more open, popular.”

“A mud-stained sunlight began to splatter the sodden fields, and the hateful, nasal world of birds began to come to life. It seemed to me that I was coming out of a suffocating nightmare and that the low clouds flying before the wind were the shreds of an evil dream.”

“The only word in the Martian language is written phonetically: Kay-ray-kh-kuh-ko-kex.It means whatever you want it to mean.”

“Only a soul full of despair can ever attain serenity and, to be in despair, you must have loved a good deal and still love the world.”

“Kako je čitanje nešto neobično!Kako je čudno to čitanje koje poništava vreme, pretače vrtoglavi prostor, a da pri tom ne zaustavlja dah niti oduzima život čitaocu.Verujemo da smo nevidljivi, odsutni, iako smo svuda prisutni, čak i tamo gde smo, grozničavi, s tom knjigom u ruci koju gutamo, jedemo očima, kao u nekoj radnji bele magije, da bismo nahranili svoj duh.A čitanje je zbilja čarobna radnja svesti koja otkriva jednu od najnepoznatijih sposobnosti čovekovih i daje mu veliku moć: sposobnost da bude na dva mesta istovremeno i moć da se usami, da se potpuno odvoji od okoline, da izađe iz svog vlastitog života a da ne izgubi vezu sa životom; ukratko, da saobraća sa svim i svačim, čak i kada više ne veruje ni u šta.”