“A false ring of the night bell, once answered — it can never be made right.”

“But questions that don’t answer themselves at the very moment of their asking are never answered.”

“You once said that you would like to sit beside me while I write. Listen, in that case I could not write at all. For writing means revealing oneself to excess; that utmost of self-revelation and surrender, in which a human being, when involved with others, would feel he was losing himself, and from which, therefore, he will always shrink as long as he is in his right mind-- for everyone wants to live as long as he is alive-- even the degree of self-revelation and surrender is not enough for writing.Writing that springs from the surface of existence-- when there is no other way and deeper wells have dried up-- is nothing, and collapses the moment a truer emotion makes the surface shake. That is why one can never be alone enough when one writes, why there can never be enough silence around one when one writes, why even night is not night enough.”

“You're not cross with me, though?" he said. She pulled her hand away and answered, "No, no, I'm never cross with anyone.”

“All knowledge, the totality of all questions and answers, is contained in the dog.”

“Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.”

“Evil does not exist; once you have crossed the threshold, all is good. Once in another world, you must hold your tongue.”