Poor creatures. What did we do to you? With all our schemes and plans?

It had never occurred to me that our lives, which had been so closely interwoven, could unravel with such speed.

Even the solitude, I've actually grown to quite like... I do like the feeling of getting into my little car, knowing for the next couple of hours I'll have only the roads, the big gray sky and my daydreams for company.

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

Indeed — why should I not admit it? — in that moment, my heart was breaking.

Poor creatures. What did we do to you? With all our schemes and plans?

Screenplays I didn't really care about, journalism, travel books, getting my writer friends to write about their dreams or something. I just determined to write the books I had to write.