My Unhappiness Protects Me From

The Sight Of Snow Made Her Think How Beautiful And Short Life Is And How, In Spite Of All Their Enmities, People Have So Very Much In Common; Measured Against Eternity And The Greatness Of Creation, The World In Which They Lived Was Narrow. That's Why Snow Drew People Together. It Was As If Snow Cast A Veil Over Hatreds, Greed, And Wrath And Made Everyone Feel Close To One Another. -- Snow Pg 119

We Had No Desire To Live In Istanbul, Nor In Paris Or New York. Let Them Have Their Discos And Dollars, Their Skycrapers And Supersonics Transports. Let Them Have Their Radios And Their Color Tv, Hey, We Have Ours, Don't We? But We Have Something They Don't Have. Heart. We Have Heart. Look, Look How The Light Of Life Seeps Into My Very Heart

The Writers Secret Is Not Inspiration - For It Is Never Clear Where It Comes From - It Is His Stubbornness, His Patience.

I Realized That The Longing For Art, Like The Longing For Love, Is A Malady That Blinds Us, And Makes Us Forget The Things We Already Know, Obscuring Reality.

Books, Which We Mistake For Consolation, Only Add Depth To Our Sorrow.