...in my dreams the world would come alive, becoming so captivatingly majestic, free and ethereal, that afterwards it would be oppressive to breathe the dust of this painted life.

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It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.

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The good, the admirable reader identifies himself not with the boy or the girl in the book, but with the mind that conceived and composed that book.

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Only one letter divides the comic from the cosmic.

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For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.

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Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form.

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And the rest is rust and stardust.

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Life is a message scribbled in the dark.

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Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece.

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My mind speaks English, my heart speaks Russian, and my ear prefers French.

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