Those Who Live In A World Of

The Act Of Writing Is A Kind Of Catharsis, A Liberation, But I Never Really Concerned Myself With That. I Write Because It Interests Me.

All Psychological Research Is Completely Barred By The Interpretations Of The Psychoanalysts. Everything Happens In The Unconscious, And I Don't Know What This Unconscious Is.

Neither Reproaches Nor Encouragements Are Able To Revive A Faith That Is Waning.

Literature Is Always Trying To Show Other Parts Of This Immense Universe In Which We Live. It's Endless. I'm Sure There Will Be Other Writers Who Will Discover New Worlds.

I Don't For A Minute Think That Hitler Is Like Joan Of Arc. But I Think That At That Deep Level Of Tropisms, Hitler Or Stalin Must Have Experienced The Same Tropisms As Anyone Else.