Everything is arranged so that it be this way, this is what is called culture.

I was wondering myself where I am going. So I would answer you by saying, first, that I am trying, precisely, to put myself at a point so that I do not know any longer where I am going.

If I only did what I can do, I wouldn't do anything

The blindness that opens the eye is not the one that darkens vision. Tears and not sight are the essence of the eye.

Psychoanalysis has taught that the dead – a dead parent, for example – can be more alive for us, more powerful, more scary, than the living. It is the question of ghosts.

If things were simple, word would have gotten around.

To pretend, I actually do the thing: I have therefore only pretended to pretend.

Monsters cannot be announced. One cannot say: 'Here are our monsters,' without immediately turning the monsters into pets.

I always dream of a pen that would be a syringe.

The traditional statement about language is that it is in itself living, and that writing is the dead part of language.

One often speaks without seeing, without knowing, without meaning what one says.

Life can be so unexpected and wolderful!

People make such a big deal about looks, but after a while, when you know someone, you don´t even notice anymore...

A busy life is filled with tremendous emptiness.

If we go in to each situation that life throws at us with an attitude that we canlearn from it then we will never be truly defeated.

What we [writers] do might be done in solitude and with great desperation, but it tends to produce exactly the opposite. It tends to produce community and in many people hope and joy.

Age is not measured by years. Nature does not equally distribute energy. Some people are born old and tired while others are going strong at seventy.

As you can tell by my IMDB page, I like to work.

Making love to your wife is like shooting at sitting ducks.

The artist is a person who is expert in the training of perception.

We walk alone through this world, but if we're lucky, we have a moment of belonging to something, to someone, that sustains us through a lifetime of loneliness.