To Be A Writer Does Not Mean

Two People In Love, Alone, Isolated From The World, That's Beautiful.

When Graves Are Covered With Stones, The Dead Can No Longer Get Out. But The Dead Can't Go Out Anyway! What Difference Does It Make Whether They're Covered With Soil Or Stones?

In Tereza's Eyes, Books Were The Emblems Of A Secret Brotherhood

But Which Was The Real Me? Let Me Be Perfectly Honest: I Was A Man Of Many Faces. (p.33)

No Act Is Of Itself Either Good Or Bad. Only Its Place In The Order Of Things Makes It Good Or Bad.