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我不是为读者写作;我是为自己写作。
The price one pays for pursuing any profession, or calling, is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side.
I believe that any human life is worthy of being narrated, that it even deserves literature's illumination.
We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.
有的时候,一支亲切的乐曲,一处幽静地方的潺潺水声,一朵花的芳香,甚而只是说出一个熟悉的字眼,会突然唤起一些模糊的记忆,令人想起一些今生不曾出现过的场景,它们会像微风一样飘散,仿佛刹那间唤醒了对某种久已别离的、比较快乐的往事,而这种回忆单靠冥思苦想是怎么也想不起来的。