“How well I would write if I were not here! If between the white page and the writing of words and stories that take shape and disappear without anyone’s ever writing them there were not interposed that uncomfortable partition which is my person! Style, taste, individual philosophy, subjectivity, cultural background, real experience, psychology, talent, tricks of the trade: all the elements that make what I write recognizable as mine seem to me a cage that restricts my possibilities. If I were only a hand, a severed hand that grasps a pen and writes…who would move this hand? The anonymous throng? The spirit of the times? The collective unconscious? I do not know.”

“Being inside out lets me bring the outside in.”

“To work for salary is to give out your life for little compensation.”

“Spend the afternoon, you can’t take it with you.”

“… And, after all, an obsolete list. She was in love now, set for the eternal romance that was to be the synthesis of all romance, yet sad for these man and these moonlights and for the ‘thrills’ she had had – and the kisses. The past – her past, oh, what a joy! She had been exuberantly happy.”

“Moral wounds have this peculiarity – they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.”

“I deciced if I were ever to get into booze and women, my line would be, ‘Excuse me, madam, but I would really love to bed and muss you. . . . Are you perchance free this evening?”

“God is the giver of life.”

“When it rains,” her father said “it pours.”

“Вера в себя способна творить такие же чудеса, как вера в Господа Бога.”

“My philosophy of life is very simple. I live to help others and help others to live.”

“Make your success a habit not just an act of whim.”

“…this story offers far more than a simple moral of how the meek can trump the mighty.”

“أهم يجلبون البهجة معهم أم….نحن نشعر بالبهجة فى وجودهم…؟؟^_^”