Some people are your relatives but others are your ancestors, and you choose the ones you want to have as ancestors. You create yourself out of those values.

And my problem was that I always tried to go in everyone's way but my own.

Meaning grows in the mind, but the shape and form of the act remains.

All novels are about certain minorities: the individual is a minority. The universal in the novel-and isn't that what we're all clamoring for these days?-is reached only through the depiction of the specific man in a specific circumstance.

The thing to do is to exploit the meaning of the life you have.

Please, a definition: A hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action.

What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?