Life is a flimsy branch over an abyss.

Some people give theirselves a certain number of white weeks once in a year, when they do not drink a single drop of alcohol. It is really wise. I myself have a few weeks per year, let us call them white or black, when I am not interested in the world around. When I come back from this isolation of the news, I realize that I have missed nothing significant. We live in the rain of disinformation and rumors, where the truth is a very small number. In those weeks of dissociation I seek for knowledge that lies within me.

I do not understand how on earth you can become a writer without seeing the world.

To grow up is to wonder about things; to be grown up is to slowly forget the things you wondered about as a child.

Children get acquainted with each other in a special way, they do not make contracts as adults, they believe each other or not. Childish friendships often end in violence. You may become an enemy all of a sudden as well as notice that you are someone's best friend.

We used to send whole flocks of birds shooting out of our mouths and never managed to grab them by their wings.

I know paradise has many gates, just as hell does. One has to learn to distinguish between them, or one is lost.