I have no idea! I have been writing for 35 years and from the beginning up to now the situation's almost the same. I'm kind of an ugly duckling. Always the duckling, never the swan.

For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a "Reserved" sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant. Despite the fact that I was sure I'd never see her again.

The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts.

Only where there is disillusionment and depression and sorrow does happiness arise; without the despair of loss, there is no hope.

No matter what they wish for, no matter how far they go, people can never be anything but themselves. That's all.

The good thing about writing book is that you can dream while you are awake.

I saw that she was crying. Before I knew it, I was kissing her. Others on the platform were staring at us, but I didn't care about such things anymore. We were alive, she and I. And all we had to think about was continuing to live.