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Anyone who has lost something they thought was theirs forever finally comes to realise that nothing really belongs to them. <Eleven Minutes>

One writes to make a home for oneself, on paper, in time and inothers' minds. ---- by Alfred Kazin

Was there a truth outside men? Didn't men make the truth for themselves? Everything men did or made became real. <A Bend in the River>

我正在因为自己没有鞋而难过,忽然遇见一个没有双脚之人,我的难过顿时消失了. <人性的弱点>

<Wyrms> We're all folded up, and nobody knows what we really are. We'reall identical, blank, empty pieces of paper. It's the folding that makes us different. We are the folds.

<Rebel Angels> What if evil doesn't really exist? What if evil is something dreamed up by man, and there's nothing to struggle against except our own limitation? The constant battle between our will, our desires, and our choices.

<A Bend in the River> You so quickly get used to peace. It is like being well - you take it for granted, and forget that when you were ill to be well again had seemed everything.