Questions that will free you might have answers that will imprison you again.

The possibility of truth has become a delusion to those who made their own disguise the truth.

Write when you least feel like it, Because that's when you write best.

Make sure you don't carry the burden of the whole world on your shoulders, just in case someone needed them to cry.

If you observe the pace of my breaths, you won't need to listen to my words.

Is it crazy to say that I sometimes don't understand what I write but I write it anyway, because maybe someone, somewhere, somehow, would feel what I didn't?

Don't let yourself be amazed by the imagination of a writer and his words, writers are almost all the time in a love-hate relationship with words.

It's ridiculous to think that taking out words will heal hearts, because a palm-sized box is just not enough for the anger of this world.

Silence is a great companion when words are devoid of meanings.

You have to have a plot too, you know? Because without it, your life is less of a story and more of an empty paper.

A deeper thought on the surface is exactly the paradox we need.

When people don't want to come nothing will stop them.

We are all serving a life sentence in the dungeon of self.

A madhouse of frenzied moneymaking and frenzied pleasure-seeking, with none of the corners chipped off. It is beautifully situatedand the air reminds one curiously of Edinburgh.

Listening is not merely not talking, though even that is beyond most of our powers; it means taking a vigorous, human interest in what is being told us.

Nobody gives a crap about hockey down here - nobody. I coach kids' hockey down here and you can start to see the disinterest in the game here with the kids

Every good writer or filmmaker has something eating at them, right? That they can't quite get off their back . And so your job is to make your audience care about your obsessions.

Lots of shy people dress a bit too much. It's just kind of an armour. People say the same thing about me.

I don't know how people act. I've never understood that.

Mud unto mud!--Death eddies near-- Not here the appointed End, not here! But somewhere, beyond Space and Time, Is wetter water, slimier slime!

The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.