When I think about it, if I had to choose, I'd rather be happy than write.

Something in her brain that still remained calm told her that she was doing a very foolish thing indeed.

Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone.

As soon as I turned the key I saw it hanging, the color of fire and sunset. the colour of flamboyant flowers. ‘If you are buried under a flamboyant tree, ‘ I said, ‘your soul is lifted up when it flowers. Everyone wants that.’ She shook her head but she did not move or touch me.

One realized all sorts of things. The value of an illusion, for instance, and that the shadow can be more important than the substance. All sorts of things.

I am empty of everything. I am empty of everything but the thin, frail ghosts in my room.

Now at last I know why I was brought here and what I have to do.