I have often heard that the novel is dead. But I see novels produced, I don't know how many a week, in France. I have the impression it's carrying along quite well.

The novel moves like all the arts. It's transforming itself all the time.

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.

I have never sought the reason why I write.

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.

How can I know what I think till I see what I say?