Oh, I'm Not Just Going Too Far,

The Time For Miracles Has Either Passed Or Not Come Yet, Besides, Miracles, Genuine Miracles, Whatever People Say, Are Not Such A Good Idea, If It Means Destroying The Very Order Of Things In Order To Improve Them.

Sometimes I Say That Writing A Novel Is The Same As Constructing A Chair: A Person Must Be Able To Sit In It, To Be Balanced On It. If I Can Produce A Great Chair, Even Better. But Above All I Have To Make Sure That It Has Four Stable Feet.

Very Few People Are Aware That In Each Of Our Fingers, Located Somewhere Between The Firs Phalange, The Mesophalange And The Metaphalange, There Is A Tiny Brain... It Should Be Noted That Fingers Are Without Brains, These Develop Gradually With The Passage Of Time And With The Help Of What The Eyes See... That Is Why The Fingers Have Always Excelled At Uncovering What Is Concealed.

People Might Ask Me, What Do You Propose Instead? I Propose Nothing. I Am A Mere Novelist, I Just Write About The World As I See It. It Is Not My Job To Transform It. I Cannot Transform It All By Myself, And I Wouldn't Even Know How To. I Limit Myself To Saying What I Believe The World To Be.

The Best Way To Killing A Rose Is To Force It Open When It Is Still Only The Promise Of A Bud.