The fluid boundary between individuals and types is a true concern of the real writer. - Elias Canetti

I noticed in the front row a small, very pale, almost white man, old, tremendously alert, old in the only way I love old age, namely more alive for all the years, more attentive, more unrelenting, expectant and ready, as though he still had to make up his mind about most things and must not disregard anything.

He will not do death the honor of taking it into account.

I hate judgments that only crush and don’t transform.