There's not much you can do about time - it just keeps on passing. But experience? Don't tell me that. I'm not proud of it, but I don't have any sexual desire. And what sort of experience can a writer have if she doesn't feel passion? It'd be like a chef without an appetite.

A theory is a battlefield in your head.

Once you let yourself grow close to someone, cutting the ties could be painful.

Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.

Her pupils have taken on a lonely hue, like grey clouds reflected in a calm lake.

Writing is fun - at least mostly. I write for four hours every day. After that I go running. As a rule, 10 kilometers (6.2 miles). That's easy to manage.

With each passing moment I'm becoming part of the past. There is no future for me, just the past steadily accumulating.