I Read A Book One Day And

Most Of The Time It's Not The Europeans Who Belittle Us. What Happens When We Look At Them Is That We Belittle Ourselves. When We Undertake The Pilgrimage, It's Not Just To Escape The Tyranny At Home But Also To Reach To The Depths Of Our Souls. The Day Arrives When The Guilty Must Return To Save Those Who Could Not Find The Courage To Leave.

Suddenly Ka Realized He Was In Love With İpek. And Realizing That This Love Would Determine The Rest Of His Life, He Was Filled With Dread.

Sometimes I Would See Them Not As Mementos Of The Blissful Hours But As The Tangible Precious Debris Of The Storm Raging In My Soul.

In The Mornings I Used To Say Goodbye To My Wife Like Someone Going To Work. I'd Leave The House, Walk Around A Few Blocks, And Come Back Like A Person Arriving At The Office.

I Think A Lot About The Poems I Wasn't Able To Write...i Masturbrated...solitude Is Essentially A Matter Of Pride; You Bury Yourself In Your Own Scent. The Issue Is The Same For All Real Poets. If You've Been Happy For Too Long, You Become Banal. By The Same Token, If You've Been Unhappy For A Long Time, You Lose Your Poetic Power...happiness And Poverty Can Only Coexist For The Briefest Time. Afterword Either Happiness Coarsens The Poet Or The Poem Is So True It Destroys His Happiness.