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

I never trust people with no appetite. It's like they're always holding something back on you.

Passion can’t sustain itself forever.

Maybe the star doesnt even exist any more.Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.

Thanks to the long days of rain, the blades of grass glowed with a deep-green luster, and they gave off the smell of wildness unique to things that sink their roots into the earth.

Kafka is one of my very favorite writers. Kafka's fictional world is already so complete that trying to follow in his steps is not just pointless, but quite risky, too. What I see myself doing, rather, is writing novels where, in my own way, I dismantle the fictional world of Kafka that itself dismantled the existing novelistic system.

It's just like sex; when [a book is] finished, it's finished.