To combat death you don't need much of a life, just one that isn't yet finished..

Suffering doesn't improve human beings, does it?.

When we don't speak, said Edgar, we become unbearable, and when we do, we make fools of ourselves..

If you live with death threats, you need friends. So you have to risk that they might spy on you..

Once upon a time they had some bad luck, and they blame everything on that..

Women always need other women to lean on. They become friends in order to hate each other better. The more they hate each other, the more inseparable….

What can be said about chronic hunger. Perhaps that there's a hunger that can make you sick with hunger. That it comes in addition to the hunger you ….

My flesh was burning where the skin was scraped off my knees, and I was afraid that I couldn't be alive anymore with so much pain, and at the same ti….

Only the demented would not have raised their hands in the great hall. They had exchanged fear for insanity"..

I have always written only for myself - to clarify things, to clarify things with myself, to understand in an inner way what is actually happening..

Everyday brought me further away from other people, I had been placed out of the world's sight, as if in a cupboard, and I hoped it would stay that w….

Language is so different from life. How am I supposed to fit the one into the other? How can I bring them together?.

I'm always telling myself I don't have many feelings. Even when something does affect me I'm only moderately moved. I almost never cry. It's not that….

Some people speak and sing and walk and sit and sleep and silence their homesickness, for a long time, and to no avail. Some say that over time homes….

I wanted to get out of our thimble of a town, where every stone had eyes..

In this county, we had to walk, eat, sleep and love in fear..

In Romanian society, I am not particularly well-liked. I don't often receive invitations..

If only the right person would have to leave, everyone else would be able to stay in the country..

I have packed myself into silence so deeply and for so long that I can never unpack myself using words. When I speak, I only pack myself a little dif….

What can't be said can be written. Because writing is a silent act, a labor from the head to the hand..

Who can take a single step with his head?.