Nothing Can Happen Nowhere. The Locale Of

Every Love Has A Poetic Relevance Of Its Own; Each Love Brings To Light Only What To It Is Relevant. Outside Lies The Junk-yard Of What Does Not Matter.

Art Is One Thing That Can Go On Mattering Once It Has Stopped Hurting.

One Can Live In The Shadow Of An Idea Without Grasping It.

Young Girls Like The Excess Of Any Quality. Without Knowing, They Want To Suffer, To Suffer They Must Exaggerate; They Like To Have Loud Chords Struck On Them.

In 'real Life' Everything Is Diluted; In The Novel Everything Is Condensed.