Any intelligent person knows that life is a beautiful thing and that the purpose of life is to be happy," said my father as he watched the three beauties. "But it seems only idiots are ever happy. How can we explain this?

How much can we ever know about the love and pain in another heart? How much can we hope to understand those who have suffered deeper anguish, greater deprivation, and more crushing disappointments than we ourselves have known?

What is the thing you want most from me? What can I do to make you love me?' Be yourself,' said Ipek.

All great masters, in their work, seek that profound void within color and outside time.

My religion is complicated. Literature is my true religion. After all, I come from a completely non-religious family.

In poetically well built museums, formed from the heart's compulsions, we are consoled not by finding in them old objects that we love, but by losing all sense of Time.

The real choice we have to make is between peace and nationalism.