The eye always fills in the imperfections.

What is the purpose of a city if not to grant the greatest of gifts, anonymity?

There are two kinds of people in this world: people who want to be desired, and people who want to be desired so much that they pretend they don't.

I believe one has to escape oneself to discover oneself.

I wonder if being sane means disregarding the chaos that is life, pretending only an infinitesimal segment of it is reality.

Me? I was lost for long time. I didn’t make any friends for few years. You can say I made friends with two trees, two big trees in the middle of the school […]. I spent all my free time up in those trees. Everyone called me Tree Boy for the longest time. […]. I preferred trees to people. After that I preferred pigeons, but it was trees first.

By nature, a storyteller is a plagiarist. Everything one comes across - each incident, book, novel, life episode, story, person, news clip - is a coffee bean that will be crushed, ground up, mixed with a touch of cardamom, sometimes a tiny pinch of salt, boiled thrice with sugar, and served as a piping-hot tale.