A Saint Belongs To All Humanity.

One Night, A Group Of Moths Gathered On A Shelf Watching A Burning Candle. Puzzled By The Nature Of The Light, They Sent One Of Their Members To Go And Check On It. The Scouting Moth Circled The Candle Several Times And Came Back With A Description: The Light Was Bright. Then A Second Moth Went To Examine It. He, Too, Came Back With An Observation: The Light Was Hot. Finally A Third Moth Volunteered To Go. When He Approached The Candle He Didn't Stop Like His Friends Had Done, But Flew Straight Into The Flame. He Was Consumed There And Then, And Only He Understood The Nature Of The Light.

Identity Politics Divides Us. Fiction Connects. One Is Interested In Sweeping Generalizations. The Other, In Nuances. One Draws Boundaries. The Other Recognizes No Frontiers. Identity Politics Is Made Of Solid Bricks. Fiction Is Flowing Water.

You See, Unlike In The Movies, There Is No The End Sign Flashing At The End Of Books. When I've Read A Book, I Don't Feel Like I've Finished Anything. So I Start A New One.

Love Cannot Be Explained, Yet It Explains All.

Many Analysts Compare Turkey With Countries In The Middle East, But I Think We Need To Compare It With Russia. Both Countries Come From A Tradition Of Empire, And Also From A Tradition Of The Strong State.