At The End Of The 1950s, I

...the Habit Of Falling Hardens The Body, Reaching The Ground, To In Itself, Is A Relief.

In A King, Modesty Would Be A Sign Of Weakness.

People Might Ask Me, What Do You Propose Instead? I Propose Nothing. I Am A Mere Novelist, I Just Write About The World As I See It. It Is Not My Job To Transform It. I Cannot Transform It All By Myself, And I Wouldn't Even Know How To. I Limit Myself To Saying What I Believe The World To Be.

Because Each Of You Has His Or Her Own Death, You Carry It With You In A Secret Place From The Moment You're Born, It Belongs To You And You Belong To It.

The Only Miracle We Can Perform Is To Go On Living, Said The Woman, To Preserve The Fragility Of Life From Day To Day, As If It Were Blind And Did Not Know Where To Go, And Perhaps It Is Like That, Perhaps It Really Does Not Know, It Placed Itself In Our Hands, After Giving Us Intelligence.