After all, what is happiness? Love, they tell me. But love doesn't bring and never has brought happiness. On the contrary, it's a constant state of anxiety, a battlefield; it's sleepless nights, asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing. Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony.

We learn to fight and to grow strong by fighting.

Thinking that being a good, decent, respectable person will mean that others will see you as weak, vulnerable, and easy to manipulate.

I am very present in my work and my work is somehow an expression of my soul, but at the same time I think that a writer cannot write out of nothing.

The warrior of light knows that everything around him - his victories, his defeats, his enthusiasm and his despondency - form part of his Good Fight.

He also knows the importance of intuition.

Love doesn't need to be discussed; it has its own voice and speaks for itself.