We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.
我们死去时，心中装满了爱人和部落，我们吞下的味道，我们投入并游过的身体，仿佛智慧的河流，我们爬进去的角色，仿佛树木，我们藏身的恐惧，仿佛洞穴。
I don’t like to be told what to do.
"Language is the bridge between the soul and the world, and literature is the art of crossing that bridge."
我认为这是最好的建议：不断思考如何做得更好，并质疑自己。