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.

Language is so different from life. How am I supposed to fit the one into the other? How can I bring them together?

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.

Who can take a single step with his head?

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

If only the right person would have to leave, everyone else would be able to stay in the country.

Some people speak and sing and walk and sit and sleep and silence their homesickness, for a long time, and to no avail. Some say that over time homesickness loses its specific content, that it starts to smolder and only then becomes all-consuming, because it’s no longer focused on a concrete home. I am one of the people who say that.