I don't speak about my pain. My pain is something that doesn't need to be purged. I want to prevent people from suffering. I don't speak about my suffering. Suffering is something personal and discreet. Also, I know it will never leave me. I don't want it to leave me. It would be a betrayal.

After my father's death, nothing could touch me any more.

And action is the only remedy to indifference, the most insidious danger of all.

To remain silent and indifferent is the greatest sin of all.

And to write is to sow and to reap at the same time.

You know, words have strange destiny, too. They grow. They get old. They die. They come back.

Go over to Greece with the Iliad and Odyssey. These have elements of history, and they have non-historical elements. It's very difficult to pull them apart. And I think there's not much reason to.