Snobbery? But it's only a form of despair.

For a writer only one form of patriotism exists: his attitude toward language.

Bad literature is a form of treason.

The mechanics of love imply some sort of bridge between the sensual and the spiritual, sometimes to the point of deification; the notion of an afterlife is implicit not only in our couplings, but also in our separations.

Basically, it's hard for me to assess myself, a hardship not only prompted by the immodesty of the enterprise, but because one is not capable of assessing himself, let alone his work. However, if I were to summarize, my main interest is the nature of time. That's what interests me most of all. What time can do to a man.

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way To all the pangs and fury of despair.