Just as music is noise that makes sense, a painting is colour that makes sense, so a story is life that makes sense.

You must take life the way it comes at you and make the best of it.

The world isn't just the way it is. It is how we understand it, no? And in understanding something, we bring something to it, no? Doesn't that make life a story?

And in between the two, in between the sky and the sea, were all the winds. And there were all the nights and all the moons. To be a castaway is to be a point perpetually at the centre of a circle. However much things may appear to change-the sea may shift from whisper to rage, the sky might go from fresh blue to blinding white to darkest black-the geometry never changes. Your gaze is always a radius. The circumference is ever great. In fact, the circles multiply. To be a castaway is to be caught in a harrowing ballet of circles.

We are all born like Catholics, aren't we—in limbo, without religion, until some figure introduces us to God?

A house is a compressed territory where our basic needs can be fulfilled close by and safely.

The presence of God is the finest of rewards.