I'm always looking for something new and interesting to say. And it can't be something I'm directly experiencing.

That was what she really wanted. To forget so thoroughly she'd never have another memory again, the bitter so bitter you gave up the sweet.

If sinners where so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I?

What was the point in such loneliness among people. At least if you were by yourself, you had a good reason to be lonely.

The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.

A novel is like a dream in which everyone is you. They’re all parts of yourself.

At every moment, each instrument knew what to play. Its little bit. But none could see the whole thing like this, all at once, only its own part. Just like life. Each person was like a line of music, but nobody knew what the symphony sounded like. Only the conductor had the whole score.