Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash.
I demand that my books be judged with utmost severity, by knowledgeable people who know the rules of grammar and of logic, and who will seek beneath the footsteps of my commas the lice of my thought in the head of my style.
Fear of error which everything recalls to me at every moment of the flight of my ideas, this mania for control, makes men prefer reason`s imagination to the imagination of the senses. And yet it is always the imagination alone which is at work.
Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be in a crowd, but in an oblivious crowd.
