As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world – that is the myth of the atomic age – as in being able to remake ourselves.
How many things we held yesterday as articles of faith which today we tell as fables.
I never feel lonely if I’ve got a book – they’re like old friends. Even if you’re not reading them over and over again, you know they are there. And they’re part of your history. They sort of tell a story about your journey through life.
There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.
There’s so much grey to every story – nothing is so black and white.
Every story I create, creates me. I write to create myself.
I learned, when I look in the mirror and tell my story, that I should be myself and not peep whatever everybody is doing.
Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.
If a remake is not good, no one wants to see it and, again, it doesn’t hurt the original.
When you do a remake, there’s a lot of pressure because people always love the original.
If you take myth and folklore, and these things that speak in symbols, they can be interpreted in so many ways that although the actual image is clear enough, the interpretation is infinitely blurred, a sort of enormous rainbow of every possible colour you could imagine.
A parable is both simple and very complex. It is a story on the surface; it’s a secret within.
The protagonist of folktale is always, and intensely, a young person moving through ordeals into adult life. . . . and this is why there are no wicked stepchildren in the tales.