Normal People Have Nothing To Forget.

Shame On The Man Who Goes To His Grave Escorted By The Miserable Hopes That Have Kept Him Alive.

To Write Books Is To Have A Certain Relation With Original Sin. For What Is A Book If Not A Loss Of Innocence, An Act Of Aggression, A Repetition Of Our Fall?

Utopia Is The Grotesque En Rose, The Need To Associate Happiness - That Is, The Improbable - With Becoming, And To Coerce An Optimistic, Aerial Vision To The Point Where It Rejoins Its Own Source: The Very Cynicism It Sought To Combat. In Short, A Monstrous Fantasy.

Our Place Is Somewhere Between Being And Nonbeing - Between Two Fictions.

An Individual Dies ... When, Instead Of Taking Risks And Hurling Himself Toward Being, He Cowers Within, And Takes Refuge There.