Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love.

Culture is perishing in overproduction, in an avalanche of words, in the madness of quantity.

To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, when doing nothing was not boring - it was peace.

We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold.

Chance and chance alone has a message for us. Everything that occurs because of necessity, everything expected, repeated day in and day out, is mute.

I sometimes have the feeling that her entire life was merely a continuation of her mother's, much as the course of a ball on the billiard table is merely the continuation of the player's arm movement.

Dreaming is not merely an act of communication (or coded communication, if you like); it is also an aesthetic activity, a game of the imagination, a game that is a value in itself.

The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is. The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us.

Being in a foreign country means walking a tightrope high above the ground without the net afforded a person by the country where he has his family colleagues, and friends, and where he can easily say what he has to say in a language he has known from childhood.

The realization that he was utterly powerless was like the blow of a sledgehammer, yet it was curiously calming as well.