We looked at each other for the last time; nothing is as eloquent as nothing.

...there ain't no journey what don't change you some.

I rarely ever put my head above the rampart and see where this big lumbering behemoth called 'global literature' is going.

I’m scared of the future. I’m scared of the past. I’m nervous at the moment.

There's a link between bigotry and bad spelling.

But no, we cross, crisscross, and recross our old tracks like figure skaters.

The mind has a mind of its own. It shows us pictures. Pictures of the past and the might-one-day-be. This mind's mind exerts its own will, too, and has its own voice.