Almost seventy years later I remember clearly how the magic of translating the words in books into images enriched my life, breaking the barriers of time and space...

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No matter how ephemeral it is, a novel is something, while despair is nothing.

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Revolution will free society of its afflictions, while science will free the individual of his.

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One can't fight with oneself, for this battle has only one loser.

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Writers are the exorcists of their own demons.

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Science is still only a candle glimmering in a great pitch-dark cavern.

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I convinced her that her first loyalty isn't to other people, but to her own feelings.

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Lies crushed day and night become truths.

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When I thought I was going to lose my mind in the face of so much suffering. This is how I discovered that a human being cannot live without believing.

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Although they say that only idiots are happy, I confess that I felt happy.

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