I am worrying about my country. I feel I have a responsibility as a novelist to do something.

Stories lie deep in our souls. Stories lie so deep at the bottom of our hearts that they can bring people together on the deepest level. When I write a novel, I go into such depths.

If I choose to write about sheep, it's just because I happened to write about sheep. There is no deep significance.

What the world needs is a set villain that people can point at and say, “It’s all your fault!

My arm was not what she needed, but the arm of someone else. My warmth was not what she needed, but the warmth of someone else.

The morning air of the pasture turned steadily cooler. Day by day, the bright golden leaves of the birches turned more spotted as the first winds of winter slipped between the withered branches and across the highlands toward the southeast. Stopping in the center of the pasture, I could hear the winds clearly. No turning back, they pronounced. The brief autumn was gone.

Better to be a first-class matchbox than a second-class match.