You can say anything, anything, if it is beautifully said.
You write your first novel with the desperation of the damned. You're afraid that you'll never write anything else, ever again.
Freedom: both so priceless and so expensive.
The love between a writer and a reader is never celebrated.
Love is not feeling, child, nor even the passion of lovers, which always seeks only its own gratification. It is the act of caring, of giving, the act of protecting the weak, the helpless, the imprisoned and the desperate. Love is the hand raised in defence. You cannot love and keep your hands clean.