I wasn't in love with her. And she didn't love me. For me the question of love was irrelevant. What I sought was the sense of being tossed about by some raging, savage force, in the midst of which lay something absolutely crucial. I had no idea what that was. But I wanted to thrust my hand right inside her body and touch it, whatever it was.

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

But the silence spoke volumes.

Life is so uncertain: you never know what could happen. One way to deal with that is to keep your pajamas washed.

Things may look different to you than they did before. I've had that experience myself. But don't let appearances fool you. There's only one reality.

Nights without work I spend with whisky and books.

Is it possible to become friends with a butterfly?