The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.

Having an object that symbolizes freedom might make a person happier than actually getting the freedom it represents.

When I start to write, I don't have any plan at all. I just wait for the story to come.

I would stare at the grains of light suspended in that silent space, struggling to see into my own heart. What did I want? And what did others want from me? But I could never find the answers. Sometimes I would reach out and try to grasp the grains of light, but my fingers touched nothing.

People soon get tired of things that aren't boring, but not of what is boring.

I've always done whatever I felt like doing in life. People may try to stop me, and convince me I'm wrong, but I won't change.