A Forest Doesn't Weep Over One Tree.

If So Far We Have Been Unable To See Clearly Or To Reflect The Eternal Lineaments Of Truth, Is It Not Because We Too Are Still Moving Towards Some End-because We Are Still Alive?

Scientific Research? Only When Not At The Cost Of Ethics-and First Of All, Those Of The Researchers Themselves.

Pride Grows In The Human Heart Like Lard On A Pig.

In Our Village, Folks Say God Crumbles Up The Old Moon Into Stars.

When I Was In The Gulag I Would Sometimes Even Write On Stone Walls. I Used To Write On Scraps Of Paper, Then I Memorised The Contents And Destroyed The Scraps.