Life Is A Shitstorm, In Which Art

Men Do Not Live By Truth Alone; They Also Need Lies: Those That They Invent Freely, Not Those That Are Imposed On Them; Those That Appear As They Are, Not Smuggled In Beneath The Clothes Of History. Fiction Enriches Their Existence, Completes Them And, Fleetingly, Compensates Them For This Tragic Condition Which Is Our Lot: Always To Desire And Dream More Than We Can Actually Achieve.

Writers Are The Exorcists Of Their Own Demons.

It Isn't True That Convicts Live Like Animals: Animals Have More Room To Move Around.

The Truths That Seem Most Truthful, If You Look At Them From All Sides, If You Look At Them Close Up, Turn Out To Be Either Half Truths Or Lies.

Literature Is A Form Of Permanent Insurrection. Its Mission Is To Arouse, To Disturb, To Alarm, To Keep Men In A Constant State Of Dissatisfaction With Themselves.