Ka Knew Very Well That Life Was

It's Such A Shame That We Know So Little About Our Own Country, That We Can't Find It In Our Hearts To Love Our Own Kind. Instead We Admire Those Who Show Our Country Disrespect And Betray Its People.

Without Patience And The Skill Of A Craftsman, Even The Greatest Talent Is Wasted.

How Much Can We Ever Know About The Love And Pain In Another Heart? How Much Can We Hope To Understand Those Who Have Suffered Deeper Anguish, Greater Deprivation, And More Crushing Disappointments Than We Ourselves Have Known?

[n]othing Is As Surprising As Life. Except For Writing. Except For Writing. Yes, Of Course, Except For Writing, The Only Consolation.

I Sometimes Joke That I Am The First Writer Of Historical Fiction Who Can Look Out His Window And Point To The Objects In His Novels. I Have A View Of The Entrance To The Bosporus, The Old City, Hagia Sophia, The Blue Mosque.