I conceive of God, in fact, as a means of liberation and not a means to control others.

Everyone wishes to be loved, but in the event, nearly no one can bear it. Everyone desires love but also finds it impossible to believe that he deserves it.

People don't have any mercy. They tear you limb from limb, in the name of love. Then, when you're dead, when they've killed you by what they made you go through, they say you didn't have any character. They weep big, bitter tears - not for you. For themselves, because they've lost their toy.

The responsibility of a writer is to excavate the experience of the people who produced him.

And love will simply have no choice but to go into battle with space and time, and furthermore, to win.

No man is a devil in his own mind.

how can one respect, let alone adopt, the values of a people who do not, on any level whatever, live the way they say they do, or the way they say they should?