I've read and heard a lot of unbelievable stuff about those times when people lived in freedom -- that is, in disorganized wildness.

We comes from God, I from the Devil.

The lilac branches are bowed under the weight of the flowers: blooming is hard, and the most important thing is - to bloom. (“A Story About The Most Important Thing”)

The nights were long, like the braids of a pretty girl, and the days were short, like a girl's sense. ("The North")

Heretics are the only bitter remedy against the entropy of human thought.

True literature can exist only where it is created, not by diligent and trustworthy functionaries, but by madmen, hermits, heretics, dreamers, rebels, and skeptics.

A man is like a novel: until the very last page you don't know how it will end. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth reading.

Those two, in paradise, were given a choice: happiness without freedom, or freedom without happiness. There was no third alternative.

Literature is painting, architecture, and music.

There is no final one; revolutions are infinite.

We need writers who fear nothing. ("Our Goal")

I am ever a gentle maiden, " she shouted. "Damn if I'm not.

Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.

I believe that the choice not to have a choice is a choice in itself

When we have lost everything, including hope, life becomes a disgrace, and death a duty.

Some things are beyond human understanding.

Life is an X-rated soap opera.

We all lived through September 11. I was here at the Capitol that day. I saw the evil of our enemies written in the smoke rising above the Pentagon.

Loneliness and the feeling that you're no use to anyone - the worst kind of poverty.

I can't say I have control over my emotions; I don't know my mind. I'm lost like everyone else. I'm certainly not a leader.

Every single morning you wake up with the opportunity to be yourself, or be the idea of someone else. For me it is all about... my favourite mantra is: "You do you. I do me. They do they."