My Unhappiness Protects Me From Life.

The Entire World Was Like A Palace With Countless Rooms Whose Doors Opened Into One Another. We Were Able To Pass From One Room To The Next Only By Exercising Our Memories And Imaginations, But Most Of Us, In Our Laziness, Rarely Exercised These Capacities, And Forever Remained In The Same Room.

A Writer Is Someone Who Spends Years Patiently Trying To Discover The Second Being Inside Him, And The World That Makes Him Who He Is: When I Speak Of Writing, What Comes First To My Mind Is Not A Novel, A Poem, Or Literary Tradition, It Is A Person Who Shuts Himself Up In A Room, Sits Down At A Table, And Alone, Turns Inward; Amid Its Shadows, He Builds A New World With Words.

When You Look Into The Faces Of These Quiet Creatures Who Don't Know How To Tell Stories--who Are Mute, Who Can't Make Themselves Heard, Who Fade Into The Woodwork, Who Only Think Of The Perfect Answer After The Fact, After They're Back At Home, Who Can Never Think Of A Story That Anyone Else Will Find Interesting--is There Not More Depth And More Meaning In Them? You Can See Every Letter Of Every Untold Story Swimming On Their Faces, And All The Signs Of Silence, Dejection, And Even Defeat. You Can Even Imagine Your Own Face In Those Faces, Can't You?

A Letter Doesn't Communicate By Words Alone. A Letter, Just Like A Book, Can Be Read By Smelling It, Touching It And Fondling It. Thereby, Intelligent Folk Will Say, 'go On Then, Read What The Letter Tells You!' Whereas The Dull-witted Will Say, 'go On Then, Read What He's Written!

When We Lose People We Love, We Should Never Disturb Their Souls, Whether Living Or Dead. Instead. We Should Find Consolation In An Object That Reminds You Of Them, Something...i Don't Know...even An Earring