“The Kafka paradox: art depends on truth, but truth, being indivisable, cannot know itself: to tell the truth is to lie. Thus the writer is the truth, and yet when he speaks he lies.”

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

The meaning of life is that it stops.

Forget everything. Open the windows. Clear the room. The wind blows through it. You see only its emptiness, you search in every corner and don’t find yourself.

In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.

They’re talking about things of which they don’t have the slightest understanding, anyway. It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.

What am I doing here in this endless winter?

I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.

First impressions are always unreliable.

I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.

Books are a narcotic.

All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.

My guiding principle is this: Guilt is never to be doubted.

You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart; imagine my heartbeat when you are in this state.

Nothing unites two people so completely, especially if, like you and me, all they have is words.

I lack nothing. I only needed myself.

I’m a trained engineer, so I’m conditioned to come up with a right answer to a difficult question, but when it comes to art, there is no definite answer because it’s so subjective.

It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born.

Politics is the art of acquiring, holding, and wielding power.

All creative people want to do the unexpected.

Everything must justify its existence before the judgment seat of Reason, or give up existence.

Man is summed up in Art. All the rest is moonshine.

There’s no art where there’s no fee.

Politics is not an end, but a means. It is not a product, but a process. It is the art of government.