My literature is much more the result of a paradox than that of an implacable logic, typical of police novels. The paradox is the tension that exists in my soul.

Your eyes show the strength of your soul.

I can speak to my soul only when the two of us are off exploring deserts or cities or mountains or roads.

We must never stop dreaming. Dreams provide nourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body.

I'm not a body with a soul, I'm a soul that has a visible part called the body.

it’s that sense of powerlessness that destroyed my soul. i cannot be as good as i would like to be.nor as bad as i think i need to be.i think you have the same doubts that your goodness was not rewarded