“the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced,and lest this be taken for wry sorrow,drown the spider in wine.you are much more than simply dead:I am a dish for your ashes,I am a fist for your vanished air.the most terrible thing about lifeis finding it gone.”

“Suffering is not enough. Life is both dreadful and wonderful...How can I smile when I am filled with so much sorrow? It is natural--you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow.”

“Our people, our history, our struggle is more than a war, more than a fall, more than a favorite dish, more than one monolithic political opinion, more than one dialect, one gender, one nation, one flag. Respect and love to the diaspora - as imperfect as I am, I am one of you and I am yours.”

“O, if I say, you look upon this verse,When I perhaps compounded am with clay,Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,But let your love even with my life decay;Lest the wise world should look into your moan,And mock you with me after I am gone.”

“I am not one to rely upon the expert procedure. It is the psychology I seek, not the fingerprint or the cigarette ash.”

“I am aware that I am less than some people prefer me to be, but most people are unaware that I am so much more than what they see.”