“I think history is collective memories. In writing, I’m using my own memory, and I’m using my collective memory.”

Whenever I look at the ocean, I always want to talk to people, but when I’m talking to people, I always want to look at the ocean.

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

What happens when people open their hearts? They get better.

And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.

I’m a writer. I don’t support any war. That’s my principle.

No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.

Whatever it is you’re seeking won’t come in the form you’re expecting.

I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you.

Life is not like water. Things in life don’t necessarily flow over the shortest possible route.

I had no ambition to be a writer because the books I read were too good, my standards were too high.

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.

Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life and it’d lose even its imperfection.

Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who’s in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It’s like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven’t seen in a long time.

Concentration is one of the happiest things in my life.

I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?