I'm always telling myself I don't have many feelings. Even when something does affect me I'm only moderately moved. I almost never cry. It's not that I'm stronger than the ones with teary eyes, I'm weaker. They have courage. When all you are is skin and bones, feelings are a brave thing. I'm more of a coward. The difference is minimal though, I just use my strength not to cry. When I do allow myself a feeling, I take the part that hurts and bandage it up with a story that doesn't cry, that doesn't dwell on homesickness.

Who can take a single step with his head?

I have packed myself into silence so deeply and for so long that I can never unpack myself using words. When I speak, I only pack myself a little differently.

Writing itself does not know what it looks like while one is doing it, only when it's finished.

In Romanian society, I am not particularly well-liked. I don't often receive invitations.

I have always written only for myself - to clarify things, to clarify things with myself, to understand in an inner way what is actually happening.

Women always need other women to lean on. They become friends in order to hate each other better. The more they hate each other, the more inseparable they become.