“Do I dare ask him for what I want,As if I knew it,Could find it on some pageIn some chapterIn some book?”

“I could have run after him. I could have asked politely for some clarification. But I didn’t I knew what I preferred, and that was—I didn’t want to know. Rather, I wanted to believe.”

“I could put a book in his hands, but I couldn't take him by the ankles and dip him headfirst in another world. And for some reason, I knew even then that he needed it.”

“What really annoys me are the ones who write to say, I am doing your book for my final examinations and could you please tell me what the meaning of it is. I find it just so staggering--that you're supposed to explain the meaning of your book to some total stranger! If I knew what the meanings of my books were, I wouldn't have bothered to write them.”

“Finding A WayI'd like you for a friend.I'd like to find the wayof asking you to be my friend.I don't know what to say.What would you like to hear?What is it I can do?There has to be some word, some lookConnecting me to you.”

“Some part of me knew from the first that what I wanted was not reality but myth.”