Only the demented would not have raised their hands in the great hall. They had exchanged fear for insanity".

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

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.

If you live with death threats, you need friends. So you have to risk that they might spy on you.

My flesh was burning where the skin was scraped off my knees, and I was afraid that I couldn't be alive anymore with so much pain, and at the same time I knew I was alive because it hurt. I was afraid that death would find its way into me through this open knee and I quickly covered my knee with my hands.

Who can take a single step with his head?