A Writer In Someone Who Spends Years

In Actuality, We Don't Look For Smiles In Pictures Of Bliss, But Rather, For The Happiness In Life Itself. Painters Know This, But This Is Preciously What They Cannot Depict. That's Why They Substitute The Joy Of Seeing For The Joy Of Life.

Heroic Dreams Are The Consolation Of The Unhappy. After All, When People Like Us Say We're Being Heroic, It Usually Means We're About To Kill Each Other--or Kill Ourselves.

What Is Love?” “i Don’t Know.” “love Is The Name Given To The Bond Kemal Feels With Füsun Whenever They Travel Along Highways Or Sidewalks; Visit Houses, Gardens, Or Rooms; Or Whenever He Watches Her Sitting In Tea Gardens And Restaurants, And At Dinner Tables.” “hmmm … That’s A Lovely Answer,~ But Isn’t Love What You Feel When You Can’t See Me?” “under Those Circumstances, It Becomes A Terrible Obsession, An Illness.

Turkish Football Serves The Cause Of Nationalism, But Not Of The Nation.

I Think Perhaps It Is A Generational Thing. I Talk To Younger People And They Say, Where Is This Melancholy City You Talk About My Istanbul Is A Sunny Place.