[N]othing is as surprising as life. Except for writing. Except for writing. Yes, of course, except for writing, the only consolation.

The first thing I learned at school was that some people are idiots; the second thing I learned was that some are even worse.

A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is: when I speak of writing, what comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or literary tradition, it is a person who shuts himself up in a room, sits down at a table, and alone, turns inward; amid its shadows, he builds a new world with words.

No one drives me into exile, not even the nationalists.

There's a lot of pride involved in my refusal to believe in god.

Heroic dreams are the consolation of the unhappy. After all, when people like us say we're being heroic, it usually means we're about to kill each other--or kill ourselves.

There's been quite a clear upswing in nationalist sentiments. Everyone is talking about it, in Turkey as well.