April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
四月是最残忍的月份，从死去的土地里培育出丁香，把回忆和欲望混合，又用春雨搅动迟钝的根芽。
You are the author of your own life.
The first draft of anything is shit.
"The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created—created first in the mind and will, created next in activity."
I don't know what I would do if I didn't act. I think I would go mad.