When I begin a story at my desk, the window to my back, the path is not there. As I start to walk, I make the path.

The truth came slowly like a story told by people interrupting each other.

we are, in this country, more open to new ideas. But we are also, it seems to me, more inclined to hail the new as absolute truth - until the next new comes along.

A lie hides the truth. A story tries to find it.

People steal into one's consciousness and occupy what seems, in retrospect, to have been their place all along.

Imagination has to do with one's awareness of the reality of other people as well as of one's own reality. Imagination is a bridge between the provincialism of the self and the great world.

The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one-day will be. So please, tell the people you love and care for that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.