It's A Great Relief For Me That

When You Look Into The Faces Of These Quiet Creatures Who Don't Know How To Tell Stories--who Are Mute, Who Can't Make Themselves Heard, Who Fade Into The Woodwork, Who Only Think Of The Perfect Answer After The Fact, After They're Back At Home, Who Can Never Think Of A Story That Anyone Else Will Find Interesting--is There Not More Depth And More Meaning In Them? You Can See Every Letter Of Every Untold Story Swimming On Their Faces, And All The Signs Of Silence, Dejection, And Even Defeat. You Can Even Imagine Your Own Face In Those Faces, Can't You?

My Unhappiness Protects Me From Life.

Any Intelligent Person Knows That Life Is A Beautiful Thing And That The Purpose Of Life Is To Be Happy," Said My Father As He Watched The Three Beauties. "but It Seems Only Idiots Are Ever Happy. How Can We Explain This?

It Is Not My Intention To Explain Turkey, Its Culture And Its Problems. My Literature Has A Universal Concern: I Want To Bring People And Their Emotions Closer To My Readers, Not Explain Turkish Politics.

My Decision To View The World Through Novels, As It Were, Which Is A Typically European Way Of Looking At Things, Became A Heavy Burden For Me. But I Took It On Consciously, Even Though It Was Torture For Me.