People come and go all the time; the world has always been in movement.

I always knew who I was and where I had come from. I was not looking for a home in other people's lands.

Everybody is interesting for an hour, but few people can last more than two.

The writer is all alone.

What was past was past. I suppose that was the general attitude.

Some writers can only deal with childhood experience, because it's complete. For another kind of writer, life goes on, and he's able to keep processing that as well.

Small things start us in new ways of thinking