It depends on which reality you take and which reality I take.” (p. 318).

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.

All things in my novels are real for me. Some western critics said that Garcia Marquez's novels are magic realism. However, I believe that Marquez must have experienced everything in his novels.

I write weird stories. I don't know why I like weirdness so much ... But when I write, I write weird. That's very strange. When I'm getting more and more serious, I'm getting more and more weird.

The honour of physical decline is waiting, and you have to get used to that reality.

People with dark souls have nothing but dark dreams. People with really dark souls do nothing but dream.

let the wind change direction a little bit, and their cries turned to whispers.