Memory is quite central for me. Part of it is that I like the actual texture of writing through memory.

When you become a parent, or a teacher, you turn into a manager of this whole system. You become the person controlling the bubble of innocence around a child, regulating it.

If you are under the impression you have already perfected yourself, you will never rise to the heights you are no doubt capable of.

I discovered that my imagination came alive when I moved away from the immediate world around me.

What is pertinent is the calmness of that beauty, its sense of restraint.

I want my words to survive translation.

There was a time you saw me once, one afternoon, in the dormitories. There was no one else around, and I was playing this tape, this music. I was sort of dancing with my eyes closed and you saw me.' '...yes, I remember that occasion. I still think about it from time to time.' 'That's funny, so do I.