“But … even if I did – which I didn’t – how could I have found them myself, found them old and faded? If I only wrote them down myself – later? How can Sebastian have found them a hundred years ago – if I hadn’t even written them yet? And where did the information come from?”
“In the ordinary jumble of my literary drawer, I sometimes find texts I wrote ten, fifteen, or even more years ago. And many of them seem to me written by a stranger: I simply do not recognize myself in them. There was a person who wrote them, and it was I. I experienced them, but it was in another life, from which I just woke up, as if from someone else's dream.”
“I found the poems in the fields,And only wrote them down.”
“I thank God for my handicaps. For through them, I have found myself, my work and my God.”
“Besides, how could I trust them, when I couldn't even trust myself?”
“I have found men who didn't know how to kiss. I've always found time to teach them.”