“Even great men are only truly recognized and honored once they are dead. Why? Because those who praise them need to feel themselves somehow superior to the person praised, they need to feel they are making some concession. ”

“I write as if to save somebody’s life. Probably my own. Life is a kind of madness that death makes. Long live the dead because we live in them.”

“Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?”

“What did I know about whatever it was that others obviously saw in me? how would I know if I went around with my stomach pressed into the dust of the ground. Truth has no witness? being isn't knowing? If a person doesn't look and doesn't see, does the truth exist anyway? THe truth that doesn't transmit itself even to those who can see. Is that the secret of being a person?”

“Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad because what is fully mature is very close to rotting”

“I also want the figurative like a painter who only paints abstract colors but wants to show that he does so because he chooses to, not because he can't draw.”

“Meanwhile, the clouds are white and the sky is blue. Why is there so much God? At the expense of men.”