Life is a continuous cycle of once-terrifying things becoming normal.

Sometimes fiction is more easily understood than true events. Reality is often pathetic.

The artistic desire reveals itself in dark form - in karaoke bars [or] trolling on the Internet.

People who don’t know how to summarize have no dignity. Neither do people who needlessly drag on their messy lives. They who don’t know the beauty of simplification, of pruning away the unnecessary, die without ever comprehending the true meaning of life.

When the moon covers the sun, we have a solar eclipse. What do you call it when birds do that?

Novels are food for the leftover hours of life, the in-between times, the moments of waiting.

People unconsciously want to reveal their inner urges.