我们都会完成。也许我们中没有一个人真正理解我们所经历的一切，或者觉得我们有足够的时间。
We all complete. Maybe none of us really understand what we’ve lived through, or feel we’ve had enough time.
All language is but a poor translation.
过去是一个如影随形的阴影，无论我们跑得多快。
A man without a homeland is like a nightingale without a song.
我不是表演者，我是作曲家。
你自己，就像整个宇宙中的任何人一样，值得你的爱和关怀。
The act of writing is an act of love.
The individual has become a mere cog in an enormous organization of things and powers which tear from his hands all progress, spirituality, and value in order to transform them from their subjective form into the form of a purely objective life.