How Can One Not Speak

Music Is A Wind That Blows Away The Years, Memories, And Fear, That Crouching Animal I Carry Inside Me.

If, For Example, I Saw My Grandparents Or My Daughter For An Instant, Would I Recognize Them? Probably Not, Because In Looking So Hard For A Way To Keep Them Alive, Remembering Them In The Most Minimal Details, I Have Been Changing Them, Adorning Them With Qualities They May Not Have Had. I Have Given Them A Destiny Much More Complex Than The Ones They Lived.

A Novel Is Like A Window, Open To An Infinite Landscape.

Happiness Is Pure Kitch; We Come Into The World To Suffer And Learn.

Wishes And Fears Are Illusions, Dil Bahadur, Not Realities. You Must Practice Detachment.