“They say philosophers and wise men are indifferent. Wrong. Indifference is a paralysis of the soul, a premature death.”

When asked, “Why do you always wear black?”, he said, “I am mourning for my life.

Exquisite nature, daydreams, and music say one thing, real life another.

Not one of our mortal gauges is suitable for evaluating non-existence, for making judgments about that which is not a person.

You will not become a saint through other people’s sins.

The government is not God. It does not have the right to take away that which it can’t return even if it wants to.

Oh, I have now a mania for shortness. Whatever I read – my own or other people’s works – it all seems to me not short enough.

The happy man only feels at ease because the unhappy bear their burden in silence. Without this silence, happiness would be impossible.

He is an emancipated thinker who is not afraid to write foolish things.

I kept thinking how marvellous it would be if I could somehow tear my heart, which felt so heavy, out of my chest.

My own experience is that once a story has been written, one has to cross out the beginning and the end. It is there that we authors do most of our lying.

In short stories it is better to say not enough than to say too much, because, because–I don’t know why.

It’s not a matter of old or new forms; a person writes without thinking about any forms, he writes because it flows freely from his soul.

The aim of fiction is absolute and honest truth.

Write, write, write-till your fingers break.

The role of the artist is to ask questions, not answer them.

A woman can become a man’s friend only in the following stages – first an acquantaince, next a mistress, and only then a friend.