The Only Time We Can Talk About

The Time For Miracles Has Either Passed Or Not Come Yet, Besides, Miracles, Genuine Miracles, Whatever People Say, Are Not Such A Good Idea, If It Means Destroying The Very Order Of Things In Order To Improve Them.

The Only Miracle We Can Perform Is To Go On Living, Said The Woman, To Preserve The Fragility Of Life From Day To Day, As If It Were Blind And Did Not Know Where To Go, And Perhaps It Is Like That, Perhaps It Really Does Not Know, It Placed Itself In Our Hands, After Giving Us Intelligence.

If You Don't Write Your Books, Nobody Else Will Do It For You. No One Else Has Lived Your Life.

There Are Such Moments In Life, When, In Order For Heaven To Open, It Is Necessary For A Door To Close.

For Me, Writing Is A Job. I Do Not Separate The Work From The Act Of Writing Like Two Things That Have Nothing To Do With Each Other. I Arrange Words One After Another, Or One In Front Of Another, To Tell A Story, To Say Something That I Consider Important Or Useful, Or At Least Important Or Useful To Me. It Is Nothing More Than This.